


Riven

by Batwynn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aliens, FrostIron - Freeform, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Feels, M/M, Poor Loki, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batwynn/pseuds/Batwynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started from a promp by: jessiec987</p><p>While Earth and the Avenger's slowly begin to move on, Loki goes missing from his punishment in Asgard. About two years later the Avengers find him again, beaten and near death. How he got there, and where he's been is a mystery only the god can explain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sloppy Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETA'd by Nev 
> 
> ** Please do not share, repost, translate, or create printed copies of this fic without my express permission.

 

No one talked about Loki for months. He was out of the Avenger’s hair. As they say, ‘out of sight, out of mind’. The few times Thor came to Earth, he never brought it up and no one asked. That is, until Loki vanished from his prison on Asgard.

That’s when Thor finally broke down and told them the conditions of Loki’s punishment. He spoke bitterly of his brother’s trial, his gaze growing distant with every word. He explained how had been Loki was imprisoned, touching briefly on the sort of things that happened down there. The group listened in absolute silence, biting back any comments they had as Thor went on. When Steve had heard enough about the torture, withholding food, and forcing Loki’s magic away; he shared a few sharp words and abruptly left. 

"Don’t worry about it, Point Break," Tony said, seemingly unfazed. "Rogers is all American, all the way. Things like oppression and torture don’t fit his morals."

"They should not fit anyone, Stark," Thor replied irritably.

"No, they really shouldn’t. I would know, having been on the less ‘fun’ side of torture before."

Thor gave him a curious look before glancing at the remaining Avengers. Over all, they looked unimpressed. Whether it was over Asgard’s methods, or simply lack of sympathy for his bother, Thor did not know. Clint muttered something and ended up with an elbow in the rib from Natasha. He cast a half hearted glare at her and joined the captain, clearly finished with the conversation.

"I know that you’re worried about him, Thor," Agent Romanoff started, leaning forward on the couch. "But our main concern is his current motives. Do you think he will return here to finish what he started?"

Thor smiled weakly and stood to leave. “I almost wish he would. That way, at least we would know where he is and I could return him to Asgard with ease.”

Tony snorted and lounged back into the couch like he owned the place. Well, he did actually. It had originally been his tower. So what if the Avengers, sort of, commandeered it.   
“You make it sound like we did it so easily last time. You and I remember New York very differently, Thor.”

"That was a different time," Thor replied quietly. His face closed off as he fidgeted with his hammer. "There is little left to my brother now. He is no longer the giant you remember. He is weak. He is… small."

* * *

 

One year later, Thor stopped coming to Earth. According to Fury, there was some political drama going on that needed his attention. Tony briefly wondered if Thor even bothered to let his girlfriend know before he ran off. Speaking of girlfriends, he and Pepper were going through this thing. He didn’t have a word for it, because it wasn’t a break up. It was a thing.

"Why do you cut me out like that?" Pepper asked for the hundredth time. She had been asking a lot of questions like this lately.   
Why don’t you take your sleep medication?   
Why do you think that’s funny?   
Why can’t you remember my birthday?   
Why are you so selfish?

That last one really hurt. Considering how much Tony liked to give her, it seemed unfair. He gave up a lot of work, tons of Avengers missions, and a good chunk of control over his company. He took her out to operas and for dinners. He spent time with her going over paper work. I mean, that alone should be recognized as a wholly unselfish move. He hated paper work almost as much as a certain terrorist group.   
So he had trouble sleeping, that was nothing new. So what if he woke up in the middle of night having a panic attack and had to leave the room. He let her sleep, wasn’t that generous?

"Why do you keep asking me these things about my personality?" Tony snapped back, his patience finally waning.

"You’ve changed, Tony. Into what, I don’t know. But I don’t like it."

Tony glared at her over his now cold cup of coffee. “No, you know what? I haven’t changed. Someone once told me to never change for another person, and trust me when I say I haven’t. I’m the same sarcastic, genius, bastard I’ve always been. It’s you who can’t seem to deal with that anymore.”

"Tony," she started, her voice softening into that pitying tone he had started to hate.

"Don’t. Don’t start. You want something you can’t have. I don’t know where you got this idea that I’m supposed to cater to you and only you, but it’s officially gone too far."

"I have shit to do, Peps," he said, standing up and dumping the coffee into the sink. "I think I’ve put it off long enough while I tried to please you. Let me know if you remember the man you loved, not this idealistic hero you seem to think I am."

So, that was the thing. It turned into a break up very soon after, leaving Tony both confused and hurt. He didn’t do very well for the next year, seeing as he wasn’t used to either of the emotions. He drank, of course. He went out on missions piss-drunk and, luckily, hadn't killed anyone. Yet.   
He built twelve new suits with completely unique functions. He was still fidgeting with the invisibility one when the tower exploded. Well, it didn’t really explode, part of it did.

"Someone please tell me that wasn’t Bruce going ‘Hulk Smash’ in the lab," he grumbled into the intercom. "I could feel that all the way down in the basement."

"Stark, get up here now."

"Will do. Once I know where the hell ‘here’ is."

"Penthouse. Top floor. NOW!"

"Jesus Steve, you get so whiny when there’s trouble. I’ll be right there."

He wiped off his hands on his already ruined jeans and headed for the elevator. Rogers would have told him if his suit was needed. So what ever it was, it sounded like a domestic dispute.   
Tony hummed to himself, once again considering putting in a speaker for elevator music. Maybe a little AC/DC.   
He sauntered out as the doors opened, immediately greeted by a cloud of dust.

"God dammit, Steve!" He yelled out. "You said he didn’t Hulk out!"

"I didn’t," came a quiet voice to his left. Tony jumped and looked at Bruce curiously. The scientist was leaning against the wall next to the elevator as if preparing to flee.

"Bruce," Tony said with a frown. "If you’re here, why does it look like someone destroyed my home?"

"Because someone did. Go look for yourself."

"Aren’t you going to join me?"

"I’m still trying not to throw up," he replied, shaking his head a little. "I can’t… I can’t look at that again yet."

Tony arched an eyebrow and headed to where most of the dust and rubble was. He stepped up to Steve, nodding his head in acknowledgement. Both agents were nowhere to be seen, but what was very visible was a lump in the middle of the floor. That and the massive hole in his roof.

"For fucks sake. I swear more of my shit gets broken than is theoretically possible."

"What I don’t understand," Steve said in a tight, angry voice. "Is what he’s doing here."

"Who?"

Steve gave him a pointed look and turned away, leaving Tony to stare down at the lump. As the dust cleared, it became apparent that the lump was not actually a lump, but a person.

"Who the…" Tony stopped, his breath catching in his chest.

"Loki."

* * *

 

Tony remembered Thor’s words as soon as he recognized the figure.   
‘Small’ was one word for it. Broken beyond recognition was another. Mutilated worked too.

"Now I get Bruce’s reaction," Tony said quietly, crouching down to get a better look. Loki was in one layer of his leather armor. It was in surprisingly good condition, considering that Loki’s body was torn to shreds. Someone, or something had gone after the god’s face again and again. Layers of cuts and half healed scars covered his cheeks, neck, shoulders. Everywhere.

"This," Tony started, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise. "This can’t be from Asgard. It’s been two years. Where the fuck has he been?"

"I don’t know," Steve said with a frown. "All I know is, we need to contact Thor right away. Either he has some explaining to do, or we have an enemy worse than Loki out there."

"I’d say both. Let’s get him out of this hole." Tony stood and glared up at the ceiling. "I’m gonna need something for my new skylight here."

"Clint and Agent Romanoff are taking care of that. They want nothing to do with Loki."

"Yeah, there’s a surprise." Tony stretched and frowned down at the bloody mess called Loki. They were going to have to be extremely careful when the moved him. "Hang on," he said. "Do we know if he’s even alive?"

"I’m not going to find out."

"Pull that stick out from your ass and help me lift the mass murderer out of the god damned crator in my living room."

Steve wasted a moment to glare at Tony in his usual disapproving way before sliding down to help. Tony slipped one arm under Loki’s back and hoisted him up. Steve, being stronger, ended up pulling Loki right out of Tony’s arms with a single jerk.

"Oh," Tony said quietly, letting go. "I think you got this."

"I don’t want to have this," Steve replied testily. "But your stature doesn’t exactly make you the best candidate to carry him."

"Gee, thanks," Tony snapped, crawling out of the hole in front of him. "Don’t think I haven’t looked at your file, buddy. I know how small and weasely you were before you drank the mojo juice."

"That has nothing to with any of this. If you don’t mind, I just want to put him somewhere and go talk to Fury."

Tony followed in silence as the solider passed him and walked down the hall, every so often making faces at the back of Rogers’ head. When he tried to complain about the fact that Steve was using his bed for the bloody body dump, the soldier just gave him a pitying look and left.

"Seriously?" Tony asked the closed door. "Not everyone’s so self sacrificing as you, you fucking golden retriever."

He turned and eyed his beautiful king size bed, now filled with icky god. “Well, first things first. Let’s see if the bastard is even alive.”

Tony snuck closer to the bed carefully and jabbed a finger at Loki’s neck to check for his pulse. He got the next best thing, Loki woke up screaming.

"Oh shit!" He exclaimed, snatching his hand away and falling backwards. Loki took a breath and uttered a softer, more whimpering scream. His back arched away from the bed as if the mere contact of it was killing him. Tony jumped up and came closer, unsure if he should touch him or not.

"Loki? Uh, Reindeer Games?"

No response except for the soft keening sounds he was making while he continued to writhe in pain.

"Okay, listen to me," Tony said, pushing the god down into the blankets. "Wriggling around is not going to help you!"

Loki’s eyes snapped open and focused on him immediately. What Tony saw in them completely surprised him.

Fear.   
Paralyzing, irrational, painful  
Fear.

A minute passed where Tony thought the god might lash out at him. But he didn’t, and the fear ease out of Loki’s eyes. He nearly smiled as he spoke.

"Ah, at last," he croaked weakly. "Someone to kill me."

* * *

 

  
Loki passed out again immediately after dropping the bomb. Tony sat there gaping at him for twenty minutes or so until Loki’s eyes snapped open again.

"For fucks sake!" Tony jumped again, slithering further away from him. Loki stared up at the ceiling, letting out a bitter laugh.

"Why am I not dead yet?"

"Good question," Tony agreed, scooting closer again to lean over him. He was looking a little better. Slightly less like a corpse. "You looked pretty dead when you uh… arrived in my tower."

"By arrived, I mean you smashed through my ceiling," he continued with a frown.

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes to the heavens.   
“I care not for your phallic symbol of a tower. Just kill me and let it be over with.”

"Did you just call my tower… a penis?"

Loki sat up and hissed in pain, his eyes growing dangerously dark again. “Enough!” He snapped, curling closer to Stark. “Kill me, or shut up.”

"I’m not here for you to yell at me," Tony replied calmly, tilting his head to the side. "Also, not killing you. So stop."

Loki froze, a lost, hopeless expression forming on his face. He continued to gaze at Tony as if he had just shared the worst news in the world with him.

"Please…"

Tony paled, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Excuse me?!”

Loki swallowed and continued to stare into Tony’s eyes. “Please kill me.”

"Uh, no," Tony said quietly, shifting forward to look him up and down. Only the older scars seemed to be healing, the fresh ones were still bloody and raw. "Care to explain all this? I mean, Thor said you were being treated like shit… But that was two years ago."

Loki choked. “Only two years?!” He laughed, a dry painful sound lacking any humor. “It was much more than that, Stark.”

"It's two years since you left Asgard," Tony said patently. "Nice trick, by the way. How’d you do that?"

"I didn’t. I was removed by force."

"Okaaaay… I assume by those assholes who did this to you," Tony said, gestering to Loki's body.

"Yes. But It was not two years."

Tony grumbled and nodded his head. “Okay,” he agreed. “Explain it a little better.”

Loki scoffed and pulled his knees up to his chest with a painful wheeze. “I do not answer to you. Leave me be until one who is willing to kill me arrives.”

"No one is fucking killing you! You got that?"

Loki sneered over his knees and closed his eyes. “Why do you care, Stark?” He asked nastily. “I never thought you a sentimental man.”

"I’m not," Tony replied with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He frowned and looked at it, realizing he had just smeared Loki’s blood in it. "Look, I’m not letting anyone kill you. By the looks of it, you got what you deserved and then some." He smiled faintly at the god, trying to sound reassuring.   
“So, how about you get cleaned up and then we figure out what to do with you.”

"I refuse to return to Asgard. I cannot…" Loki frowned and opened his eye to look at Stark once more. Again, they showed fear. "I cannot bare their punishments after what I have gone through. I would rather die."

"No one said anything about sending you back there. A lot of us here actually have morals." Tony paused and snorted. "Okay, so mostly Captain Spangles. But none of is agree with the whole torture thing. Me more than anyone."

That seemed to get a reaction out of him. An eyebrow raised in question. “You of all people? Why?”

"I’ve been there. That’s all," Tony replied shortly, standing up and grumbling. "Go get in the shower if you can. I’ll find some clothes or…" He paused as Loki shimmered in a wash of gold, reappearing dressed in a loose fitting tunic and leather pants. He was still heavily bruised and bloodied, but he had somehow cleaned off most of the mess.

"Okay, so apparently you own a magic washing machine-shower combo."

That earned him another glare. Hey, at least the guy was responding now.

"Loki," Tony started, looking at him seriously. "I know why you want to die, but I think I have a better plan. Okay?"

Loki snarled, “You presume to understand my feelings, you pathetic―”

Tony stuck a finger over Loki’s mouth roughly. Whatever the god had expected him to do, it wasn’t that. “Shut up. I do get it, to an extent. My understanding is just about as much as you’re gonna get around here. No one else is going to be as nice. Got it?”

Loki’s glare softened, replaced with a curious look. He nodded. Tony kept his finger there and continued, “I want you to tell them what happened. Who did this to you, and for how long. Bury that damn pride of yours and let them know you suffered.” He sighed and jabbed Loki’s lips with the finger before leaning back. “If you want this all to stop, they need to know that you suffered enough already.”

Loki continued to stare at him, tilting his head a little to the side. “Why do you care?”

"Because I’m not a hero and I don’t believe in justice. I believe in people changing. I believe in learning by suffering," he said, his voice growing softer. "I believe in these things because I changed only because I suffered."

Loki laughed a small, quiet laugh. It wasn’t a bitter laugh, or a bag-of-cats crazy laugh. It was almost a giggle. It was almost charming.

"I see. I think I understand you a little more," Loki said with a smile. "Stark."

"Yeah well, I think I understand you a lot more."

"Indeed, it seems you do." Loki paused, a flash of irritation at his own words. "Only a little."

"Oh, don’t ruin the moment. We were having a moment there."

Loki scowled. “We were NOT having a moment!”

"We so were." Tony flashed a grin and offered a hand to the god. "It’s ruined now, thanks Rock of Ages."

Loki looked at the hand and back at him in confusion.

"Come on," Tony urged. "Move your ass."

"Where are we going?"

"To make things right," Tony said, reaching down and grabbing Loki’s hand. "Let’s go suffer for the sake of freedom."


	2. Subtle is Not My Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETA'd by Nev :D

  
  
When they entered the ruined living room, Tony let out a grunt of surprise at the sight of Thor sitting on his littered couch. "Did Fury get you a cell phone or something?"   
  
Loki's raspy voice came from behind him quietly. "Heimdal."   
  
Thor stood abruptly, his face going from concern to anger in seconds.   
Instead of attacking him, as Thor seemed to expect, Loki shuffled behind Stark slightly. The dark-haired god remained there as if he expected Thor to attack him instead. His brother was now looking at him sadly, the thunderer's expression showing nothing more hostile than a strong desire to hug Loki.   
  
"Thor, buddy," Tony said as cheerfully as possible. "Why don't you sit down. You're being kind of extremely intimidating."   
  
With a frown still firmly in place, Thor sat down on the edge of a cushion. "Please explain this to me, Stark."   
  
Tony held back about ten nasty remarks and stepped around some rubble, glancing up at the hole in his ceiling yet again. "So Loki showed up all FUBAR and broke my ceiling."  
  
Clint let out a nasty snigger from somewhere in the corner while Thor frowned in confusion. Tony glanced at the archer, only now noticing his presence in the room. That was not a good sign. When Clint went ninja, he was in hunter mode. Hunter mode was less fun than drinking buddy mode.   
  
"What has FUBAR done to my brother?" Thor asked, rage once again flashing across his face.   
  
"Fucked up behind all recognition," Tony amended, keeping his eyes away from the bloody welt in his floor.  He didn't want to be reminded of how Loki looked when he first showed up. He looked bad enough now.   
  
"I still do not—"   
  
"Loki looked as though someone had been torturing him for months," Steve interrupted, his voice steady but heavy with disapproval. Apparently, even venomous gods didn't deserve such torture. Trust the Captain to take Loki's side first. Well, technically second. Tony got first dibs.   
  
"Loki," Thor spoke to his brother softly, trying to meet his eyes over Stark's shoulder. "Is this true?"  
  
"Why would you believe me?!" Loki snapped, shifting closer to Tony's back and placing a hand there to stay balanced.   
  
Tony did his best to suppress the shudder that threatened to crawl up his spine. Loki's delicate fingers were oddly ticklish to him. "Hey now," he said calmly, trying to distract himself from the feeling. "Let's not fight about this."   
  
"Thor," he addressed the blond. "Take our word for it, we all saw him in a bloody mess on my floor. I mean, look at him now. He's only half as pretty."   
  
Loki scoffed and gave him a look that promised a painful rebuttal later. Tony hated to admit that he was somewhat looking forward to it. He'd been bored lately. Maybe a god being thrown through his roof was exactly what he needed.   
  
Tony shrugged, watching amusement settle into the god's green eyes. Loki seemed to be healing at a faster rate now. The shadows of pain had left his eyes, at last.   
  
"Tony?"   
  
"What?" He asked turning to face Thor again. Thor blinked and looked over to Clint. Tony's mind caught up, realizing that it was the archer who had spoken. "Oh, sorry. What?"   
  
"I asked you why you are standing there like Loki's knight In shining armor?"  
  
"Uhhh..." Tony paused and glanced at Thor. His little speech about freedom wasn't exactly going to fly with Clint. It was more personal to him. Mind control and all that shit.   
  
"Well," he started again, "I thought one of you might attack him, so I decided to be a meat shield."   
  
"And why, pray tell, would you do that?" Clint asked, his voice dripping with venom.   
  
"Because as much of an asshole as I am, I'm not about to let you castrate someone who's just gone through god knows how many years of torture."   
  
Clint made a sound not unlike a hiss and left the room. Tony hoped that he was scuttling off into Natasha's arms for a little relaxing spy sex. Anything to ease that tension would be great.   
  
"Jarvis?"   
  
"Yes sir?"   
  
"Order some pizza for us, and some of that apple ale stuff Legolas loves so much."   
  
"Buttering him up, sir?"   
  
"You know me so well. Just do it."   
  
"Right away, sir," Jarvis responded with a hint of amusement.   
  
"Buttering?" Thor asked the ceiling.  
  
"The act of—"   
  
"Mute," Tony interrupted. "Can we get back on topic here? I want to finish our discussion before the pizza arrives. I can't concentrate on two things at once."   
  
Steve made a small sound of disapproval from the back of his throat. Tony ignored it, as usual.   
  
"So, Reindeer Games here is not going back to Asgard," Tony said, turning and patting Loki's shoulder cheerfully. "Just putting that out there."   
  
"Stark, I cannot promise that your wishes will be answered," Thor replied uneasily.  
  
"That wasn't a wish, that was a fact." Tony spun around, facing the clearly startled Loki. "Right, hun?"  
  
"Y-yes?"   
  
"He means 'yes' with more confidence," Tony said over his shoulder. "For now," he added, facing Loki again. "He's staying here."   
  
"What about Fury?" Steve asked tiredly. "He said that Thor makes the final decision, but if Loki is going to stay on Earth..."   
  
"He's gonna want a piece of him, huh?"   
  
Steve nodded and frowned.   
  
Thor cleared his throat and glanced uneasily at his brother. "Loki, do you wish to stay here? I cannot deceive Heimdal, but I may be able to convince father that you have suffered enough."   
  
Loki switched on his classic sneer, with that hint of condescension. "Do you truly believe your simple words would be enough to sway any decision of his? Do you not remember the last time you attempted to speak your way out of trouble?" Loki's smile widened. "I believe it ended with you being cast out of Asgard."   
  
"You dare!?" Thor boomed, launching himself from the couch.   
  
Tony kept his 'Ooh burn' to himself, instead opting to once again stand between Loki and the person he had angered.   
"Cut it out, Loki. You're not exactly helping with that silver tongue of yours."   
  
"Silver is, after all, a bitter metal," Loki replied smoothly.   
  
"What, do you make a habit of licking metals? Is there something I should know?" Tony turned away from the still annoyed Thor. "Am I going to wake up in the middle of the night and find you licking one of my Iron Man suits?"   
  
  
Loki scowled, but his eyes sparked with amusement. "I am not some pet of yours to keep. It was figurative."   
  
"Good, I don't want to have to break out the spray bottles."   
  
Thor openly gaped at the both of them as they exchanged words. He looked torn between hitting them both with his hammer, or sitting down with some popped corn.   
  
"Brother, when did you and Stark become friendly?"   
  
"I am not—"   
  
"Right around the time where he wasn't throwing me out a window," Tony interrupted cheerfully.   
  
There was a chime from the door.   
"Sir, the pizza has arrived. The apple ale will be here in a half hour."  
  
"Okay guys, enough chatter. Time to eat!"   
  
Thor glanced at Loki, trying to decipher his blank face. When Loki gave nothing back in return, he turned away to follow the eager Stark.   
  
"Have you guys eaten pizza before?"   
  
Thor managed a smile. "Jane shared it with me before I... before I returned home for a while."   
  
Tony looked at Loki and frowned. "How about you, goat boy?"   
  
Loki scowled at the paper plate that Stark slid under his nose. He didn't answer, but started breaking off small pieces of the slice and nibbling on it. He looked oddly pained as he did so.   
  
"You don't have to be so reserved," Tony said, already with a mouthful of cheese and sauce. "You can stuff your face."   
  
"I cannot eat too much at once, considering how little I had to eat... before. It would make me ill."   
  
Tony felt the food in his mouth lose its taste. He swallowed dryly and put the slice he had just been delving into with gusto on the plate. He kept his head down, his eyes not seeing the messy pizza on his plate, but memories flickering past.   
  
"Yeah... I know what you mean. I made myself sick after I came back too. Ate too many burgers." He paused, his fingers curling into a fist on the counter in front of him.  "I just kept eating, though. Like I wanted to be sure they were real. Nothing's ever tasted so good in my life."   
  
Tony frowned down at his hands, wondering why he bothered to share that before there was a small sound. He looked up in time to see the piece of pizza fall from Loki's fingers. His facade was down, showing Tony the true Loki, haunted and alone. He expression slid from startled to something of relief. Maybe not so alone.   
  
"I shall be more careful than you," Loki said in his perfect leering voice. Almost perfect. His still open expression sort of ruined the effect.   
  
"Whatever, Reindeer Games."   
  
__________  
  
Stark persisted in staying by his side at all times. At first, Loki was grateful for the much needed protection he provided. He may look healed, but he could feel broken ribs shift as he moved, a fracture in his shoulderblade from the impact, and something was wrong with his pelvic bone. The latter was the most annoying of the injuries. He could mask his pain from the others, but it was difficult to walk normally. Loki needed to appear as normal and unharmed as possible, lest any of the pathetic mortals got it into their minds to attack him. It was hard to admit, but he wasn't in any state to fight them right now.   
  
When the mortal followed him into the bathroom to show him how things worked, Loki had to draw the line. He kicked him out and changed into the strange Midgardian clothing set out for him by the bath. Loki stared at himself in the mirror, seeing his face for the first time in many many years.   
  
He no longer recognized what the mirror reflected. His dark hair was longer than it had even been, tumbling down in a ragged mess well past his shoulders. His green eyes were sunken, surrounded by deep shadows from years of suffering. He smiled bitterly, reaching up and touching his sharp cheekbones.   
  
"I look like a ghost, not a god," he muttered before turning away and leaving the mirror to reflect nothing.  
  
  
"So, you get to sleep in my bed," Stark said as Loki joined him once more. There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. "I'm in a love hate relationship with this bed, so treat her right."   
  
"I do not wish to take your sleeping space." Loki paused with a sneer. "To wake smelling of you would be rather unpleasant as well."   
  
"I wouldn't complain, I smell a hundred times better than you right now."   
  
Loki flinched, just a little. He had smelt worse before his escape. No, it was best not to think about it. "Fine," he snapped, sitting on the edge of the bed stiffly. "Where will you sleep?"   
  
Tony gestured with a thumb over at an arm chair by the window.   
  
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Keeping an eye on me? Whatever happened to this 'freedom' you preached not so long ago?"   
  
"Hey, you're free to roam around my parts of the tower for all I care." He paused and frowned. "Well, not my workroom."   
  
"But I doubt everyone else would be pleased to see you if you wandered into their territory," he added, throwing himself into the armchair. He let out a long, exhausted sigh. "I guess I'm also here for moral support."   
  
"Moral support..." Loki scoffed. "Trying to appeal to my humanity again, Stark?"   
  
Tony let out a huff of amusement and opened one eye lazily. "Shut up and go to sleep. If you have bad dreams, I'll sing you a lullaby."   
  
"I do not have bad dreams."   
  
"I would if I were you."   
  
Loki glowered at the mortal and slithered under the blankets quickly, turning his back on Stark. He wasn't overly concerned about an attack, seeing as he could twist around and end the man's life before he even began to approach the bed. Loki heard the inventor shift around a little, making a few grunts in complaint before the room fell silent. Loki continued to listen carefully, his eyes remaining wide and starting into the darkness.   
  
How was it possible for a room in the middle of such a bright city to be so dark? It was a seamless darkness, not a crack of light anywhere. A darkness that was all too familiar to Loki. He felt his heart begin to race as the memory of the smells from his freezing cell started to choke him once again. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. Just pain, and darkness, and the smell.   
  
"Loki?"   
  
The voice came from right behind him. He spun with a snarl, his hand easily finding Stark's throat in the darkness. The man let out a squeak before it was silenced by Loki's fingers closing tighter. Panting, he pulled the mortal closer, finding a light in the room at last.   
  
The circlet of light in Stark's chest was glowing just as he remembered. Only, in the darkness of the room, it seemed twice as bright. He stared at it idly, his mind still shaking free of the memories.   
  
"Lo...k...." Tony gurgled.   
  
Loki let go, jerking back from him. "My... my apologies," he said, his heartbeat beginning to slow down. "I thought you were... something else."   
  
Tony coughed a few times and tried to speak, only to send himself into another bout of coughing. Loki watched him in the dim light, attempting to gage the mortal's reaction.   
  
"It's fine," he finally managed to wheeze. "It's not like this is the first time."   
  
"True," Loki responded, slipping easily into his magniloquent tone. "Although, last time was intentional."   
  
"Yeah, I think I remember."   
  
Loki chuckled nastily and shifted back, narrowing his eyes in the gloom. "Why do you bother to keep your room so dark, when you have a light with you at all times?"   
  
"This?" Tony asked, throwing himself down next to Loki on the bed. He coughed once more and looked down at his chest. "I guess I just got used to it. "Honestly," he added more quietly, " I usually sleep with a light on. I thought you would be more comfortable in the dark."   
  
"It seems I am not," Loki admitted bitterly.   
  
"Yeah, noted."   
  
"I did not have bad dreams."   
  
Tony snickered and ignored the comment, saying something about lights to the ceiling instead.   
  
The voice Loki had heard before responded before the lights came on dimly.   
  
"There we go, no more nightmares for the Loki-kins."  
  
"I can still kill you, Stark, if you do wish to continue down that line."    
  
Tony flashed him a grin and launched himself off the bed, once more heading for the arm chair. "No thanks, I've struggled way too long to give up and die now."   
  
Loki raised an eyebrow, but nodded solemnly. So did he.    
  
"But seriously," Tony added, curling up like a cat on the chair, "get some fucking sleep. This fight is far from over. We get Fury tomorrow."   
  
Loki grimaced, causing another laugh from Stark before he waved a hand at him and closed his eyes.   
Loki watched the mortal in the dim light, waiting for anymore commentary. When none came, he once more returned to the blankets, this time facing the chair. His eyes remained on the small circle of blue until he finally fell asleep.   
  



	3. The Storm's Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ this is unedited and written mostly while half asleep. My apologies.]

 

Nick Fury showed up in the only mood setting he had. No one can say he didn't live up to his name. 

 

There was something to be said about the man's level of intimidation. The rather threatening amount of leather and that eyepatch worked wonders. Tony considered, for a moment, if he should get one for himself to frighten his enemies away with a single look. He then remembered that his 20 plus guns and flying suit seemed to manage just fine. 

 

"You mean to tell me, that he hasn't started killing anyone yet?" 

 

"Not yet," Tony replied, "no." 

 

"Where is he, then?" Fury asked, not nicely. "I think I want to see the extent of the damages inflicted on him." 

 

"Why's that?" Tony asked, knowing full well why. 

 

"Call it a guilty pleasure." 

 

"How about we don't, and say we did." 

 

"How 'bout you do what I tell you, Stark. Before I bring my team in here and take him out by force?" 

 

Tony leveled his gaze and stared for a long moment at the man. As much as ticking Fury off was his all time favorite pastime, perhaps today it was not the best idea. Seeing as Loki's safety somewhat relied on the director's mood. 

 

"Sure," he said, keeping his tone confident even as his heart sank. "Let me just go  _fetch_  his Goatlyness." 

 

He paused in the hall only a few feet from his bedroom where the god was hiding. Tony had told him to stay out of sight until they could work things out. Of course Fury decided to skip the whole 'work things out' vibe and go right for the 'get the alien and torture him'. 

 

Tony leaned against the wall, pinching his nose as his thoughts ran wild. There were a hundred ways or more that he could get Loki out of here. Only twenty of them included going past Fury. Three of them included doing so over Fury's dead body. He had really narrowed it down when he remembered the helipad on the roof. It was new, added in while they were up there fixing it up after a certain attack. 

 

The real problem was, what to do after they escaped? He wasn't about to elope with some half crazy, greasy haired, possibly lying god of chaos. There was room for only one person with PTSD on the eloping boat, and no room for a bag of cats. 

 

"Has he left?" 

 

Tony flinched and had his arms up in a defensive possession before he even knew what he was doing. Loki looked less startled and more amused. 

 

"Oh wipe that smirk off your pretty face," Tony snapped, letting his hands drop. "And no he hasn't left. I'm here to collect you."   

 

Loki's smile vanished, replaced immediately by a look of utter betrayal. "I..." He paused, at lost for words. "But you  _said_  I was to..." 

 

"Hey," Tony replied quickly, coming closer to give the god's arm a gentle squeeze. "Hey, what I said still stands. He's not gonna be able to just haul you off. Not in my house." 

 

"Then, why are you bringing me to him?" 

 

"Apparently his life is dull enough that he needs to point and laugh at a torture victim." 

 

Loki raised an eyebrow, his demeanor slipping once more into the usual confident grace. "Did he laugh at you, then, when you returned from your trials?" 

 

Tony let out a bark of laughter at the thought. He wouldn't put it past Fury to have spied with his little cameras. Tony could see him now, sitting behind a screen while he gave his speech and ate too many burgers. "He wasn't exactly in my life at that point, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was laughing as he watched the footage." 

 

"He sounds as pleasant as I remember." 

 

"Oh no," Tony said, shaking his head. "He's probably worse. You did, after all, kill not only some red shirts, but our precious Agent Coulson." 

 

Loki frowned, pulling out of Tony's grip as it tightened slightly. "I was unaware he was actually dead." 

 

"Yeah, I think you  _might_  have hit a vital organ there." 

 

"But I still sensed him for quite some time after..." Loki trailed off, looking unsure. "Although, I suppose I was, admittedly, a little distracted." 

 

Tony raised an eyebrow and tried his damn hardest not to snap from anger. Okay, so Tony was allowed to be nonchalant about it, because that's his thing. Loki, however, wasn't allowed to act like it was nothing.  

 

"Felt his  _presence_ , huh?" He asked stiffly. 

 

But Loki was distracted, looking at something that Tony couldn't see. After a moment, he jerked a hand up and performed an elegant twist of the wrist. It was a little hypnotic to watch Loki's fingers flutter and twist through the air. 

 

Loki hummed and let his hand fall. "I believe you have been lied to, Stark." 

 

* * *

 

The inventor was silent as they entered the room, not even glancing at Fury when the man greeted him. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" 

 

Loki tensed, waiting for any sign that Stark was going to speak. But the man simply crossed his arms and stared at Loki with a blank face.  Fury glanced between them, clearly unnerved by the unusual silence. 

 

"Okay then," he said slowly, giving up on Stark to look at Loki. " _You_ , sit your ass down." 

 

Loki sat carefully, forcing a snarl back down his throat. He loathed being at the mercy of this sniveling human. Be it as it may, he was still a god, and he could still throw the man out the window in a single step. 

 

"Now you listen up," Fury began, leaning back in his chair with a confident smirk. "I don't know or particularly care where you've been or what's been done to you. Here on earth, you're still a criminal. Now, Thor has told me how you 'paid your penance' back on Asgard. I say, you owe us a little penance too." 

 

Loki, once more, bit back an inappropriate sound. This time, it was laughter. 

"You wish for my blood?" Loki asked, a flashing a nasty sneer at the man in front of him. "I was abused for years on Asgard as recompense for my sins. I fail to see how such treatment can not count as some sort of payment."  

 

"Don't forget the years of torture out in space, Reindeer Games." 

 

Fury shot a glare at Stark, ignoring Loki's questions. "How do we know he's even telling the truth about that?" 

 

"He showed up looking like he had been tortured for a hundred years?" Tony drawled, his voice dripping with venom. There was clearly something off about him, and Loki knew precisely why. He was just waiting for the man to explode. 

 

"He could have done that to himself, Stark. I wouldn't put it past him." 

 

"Sure, Fury," Tony said with a sarcastic smile. "The next time you can pop your own ribs out, shatter your shoulder blade, and crush your pelvis, you let me know." 

 

Loki's head snapped around at his words. How had the mortal known the extent of his damages? After he had been  _so_  careful too. Tony met his eyes and gave a little shrug. 

 

"Jarvis." 

 

"Ah," Loki replied, trying not to feel completely vulnerable. So the man had know the entire time how week he was. Loki had just assumed his safety was promised by fear. That Stark would be too afraid of Loki's power to try anything. Apparently, he was wrong. So why...? 

 

"If you two are done making goo-goo eyes at each other, I'd like to get back to business." 

 

Loki turned back to him, hearing  Stark mutter something about goo-goo eyes from behind him. 

 

Fury ignored the inventor and continued, "The captain and Thor have made their opinions on this mess painfully clear to me. I haven't heard from Barton and Romanoff, but I'm pretty damn sure they're not too happy about this. Seeing as the only option, other than my preferred choice of locking you away in SHIELD, is for you to stay here..." he glanced at Stark, raising an eyebrow. "I think you're gonna need permission from a certain billionaire you threw out the window not too long ago." 

 

Tony looked up at the ceiling and nodded as though reminiscing on something pleasant. "Good times, good times." 

 

Fury stared at him in mild disgust. "You are one fucked up individual, you know that?" 

 

"Funny, coming from  _you_." 

 

"Excuse me?" Fury barked in response. "I'm not the one fondly remembering a near death experience." 

 

Tony turned his head slowly and smiled at him with all the charm of a snake. "No, but you  _are_ the one who used Coulson's death as a way to get your hero's to behave. Or should I say, his faked death?" 

 

The tension in the room was nearly palpable. As though even a single breath would cause it to shatter. Fury didn't even flinch at the accusation. He sat up a little straighter and let out a sigh. 

"I honestly thought you would have figured it out sooner." 

 

"I'm sorry, I generally don't have to second guess people's deaths," Tony snarled, leaving his post by the wall to stand directly behind Loki. " I mean, I don't trust you in any other way, so I guess if should have known." 

 

"You know damn well why I did it, Stark. I don't have to justify my actions to you!" 

 

"No," Tony agreed, "You don't have to justify anything. What you do have to do, is get the  _fuck_ out of my tower." 

 

Finally, the director looked taken aback. Tony had been keeping his tone calm and sarcastic, as usual. But he finally slipped into a dark, threatening voice that Loki had never heard before. If he were a lesser being, Loki would have felt fear. 

 

"You don't get to order me—" 

 

"You're in my home, Nick," Tony interrupted, placing a hand on Loki's shoulder carefully. "I can make you dance the fucking samba if I want." 

 

Stark gave his shoulder a squeeze. It was possibly an attempt at being reassuring, but right now it was only causing Loki to tense up more. Stark was actually starting to scare him a little. He was willing to admit that much  to himself. 

 

Fury looked torn between taking his gun out and shooting them both, or leaving quickly. 

 

"Regardless of your...  _issues_  with me, we still need to work this out," Fury tried carefully. 

 

Tony kept on smiling and said nothing else.

 

"Stark," Fury tried again, beginning to stand up. 

 

"Leave." 

 

"God dammit, Stark! You can't act like a ten year old piece of shit every time things don't go your way!" 

 

Loki felt something snap in the air along with the feeling of Stark's fingers digging deeper into his shoulder. He flinched at the merciless voice that came from behind him. 

 

"Not 'getting my way' is having George Cloony fail to come to my birthday party. Not 'getting my way' is finding out my favorite donut is out at the nearest coffee shop." 

 

Tony's smile fell at last before he finished, " _This_ , Fury, is not a temper tantrum.  _This_  is not some fucking game between us, and  _this_  conversation is over." 

 

Fury left as quickly as he came, only managing to mutter about his agents keeping an eye on them before Jarvis kindly showed him out by means of an Ironman suit. 

 

The door shut, Stark let go of his shoulder, and Loki felt the air return to the room. 

 

"Well that was something," Tony said. 

 

Loki snorted, half in amusement and half in relief at the return of Stark's usual flippant self. 

 

"It was something I would have rather avoided." 

 

Tony hummed in agreement and threw himself down in the same chair Fury recently vacated. 

"So he's really alive then, huh." 

 

Loki nodded silently in reply. 

 

"That figures. Here I was actually feeling torn up about someone other than myself, and it turns out he's just fine. Taking a little trip to Cali right now, according to you." 

 

"Yes, he seems to be in perfect health," Loki said, avoiding Stark's eyes. He stared, instead at the table in between them. 

 

"Good," Tony said, standing up again to crack his back. "It's one less thing to hate you for." 

 

Loki smiled bitterly to himself, knowing full well that there was more than enough things left for him to hate Loki for. He cast a quick glance up at Stark to find the man looking at him strangely. 

 

"Yes, have I something intriguing about my person?" 

 

" _Maybe_  it's just nice to see you looking a little healthier," Tony replied easily. 

 

"I do feel better, yes." 

 

"Good, let's get you a room then." 

 

Loki stood, still eyeing the inventor as he left the room in front of him. 

"Why have you been defending me?" He asked uneasily. "As you said, you only have one less reason to loath me." 

 

Tony snorted from down the hall a ways, turning back as the god got closer. He raised an eyebrow. " like I said before, people change. I didn't mean just you." 

 

Loki felt something fill the air around them. He met Stark's gaze calmly, searching for answers to all the questions that kept piling up. There was nothing he could be sure of, other than the fact that there was no hatred in those brown eyes. 

 


	4. When I Find Myself In Troubled Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited

Things went relatively well for having a god of chaos living in a den of heroes. Well, until the epic battle between Loki and Clint in Tony’s kitchen. Yes, his kitchen.

He had made it shit-perfectly clear to stay out of everyone’s way. See no evil, hear no evil, don’t go looking for a fight with evil.   
So what did Clint do? The second Tony left Loki to himself and went to finish his suit, Legolas walked right into his personal kitchen and taunted the god. It wasn’t for a long time afterwards did Tony take a look at the recordings to see exactly what had happened.

* * *

 

"Boy have I been waiting to get you alone," Clint said nastily as he entered the kitchen. "About time your body guard took a break. You controlling his mind too?"

Loki had already turned full around from where he had been trying to use the toaster. All his previous attempts had failed miserably, and he was just getting a handle on it when he was rudely interrupted.

"Of course not," he snapped, not bothering to hide his disdain. "I’ve made it perfectly clear that I was never able to control Anthony, and I do not intend to."

"So it’s ‘Anthony’, huh?"

"That is his name." Loki leaned back against the counter, relaxing his posture in an attempt to appear less threatening. It didn’t seem to matter, the man was looking for a fight.

Clint looked thoughtful, playing it up a bit by tapping his chin. “You know, I find it strangely ironic, you being tortured and all.”

"Ironic?" Loki replied slowly, his voice dripping with venom.

Clint moved closer, his finger still tapping his chin. Loki had a sudden temptation to cut it off.

"You know that Tony was tortured, of course."

Loki paused, failing to see the connection. What was the mortal implying, exactly?

"Perhaps. I only know what you and he have told me."

"Isn’t it funny, then," Clint said, stepping even closer, "that you should disappear and come back with some sob story about being tortured. Sounds oddly familiar, doesn’t it?"

Loki snarled, and jerked forward to grab the man by his shirt. The fabric ripped under his strength, causing Clint to flinch slightly.

"You will hold your tongue, mortal," Loki hissed, his face inches away from the archer’s. "Do not speak of things you know nothing about!"

Clint growled, “Or you’ll what…?”

"Or I shall cut that tongue out of the harebrained head of yours."

Clint smiled. “Yeah, there’s the Loki we all know.”   
  
A knife flashed and Loki had seconds to jerk away before his neck was sliced open. With a snarl, he leaned back against the counter and kicked out with both of his feet, sending the archer flying into the stove.

"I do not want this!" Loki shouted as Clint stumbled to his feet. "I have no desire to fight you."

"Sure you don’t. I’ve seen the looks you give everyone." Clint paused and flashed a cruel grin. "Well, everyone except Tony. Got a soft spot for the Ironman, Loki?"

  
Loki hesitated for a moment. A moment was all Clint needed to throw his knife at Loki with unnatural speed. The blade embedded itself into Loki’s chest near his shoulder.

With a grunt, he tore it out and glared at Clint. “I do not wish to fight you. Anthony swore to me and to Thor that I would be safe here. He vouched for you as well, Barton.”

"He doesn’t keep his promises. There’s a surprise."

With that, Clint launched himself across the kitchen and dove into Loki. They fell back heavily against the counter, Loki smashing his head hard on the stone edge. For a second there was nothing but bright lights and a strange sound before he was whisked away into unwanted memories.

* * *

 

When Loki had heard about someone’s death through the whispers of the other prisoners, he never expected it to be anyone important. It could have been Thor, or Odin, or Fandral. But no, it was the only person in all of Asgard who mattered to Loki.

Thor didn’t come for him. He didn’t come to tell him of her death, nor to comfort him. It was in that moment that Loki knew that all ties had truly been cut. Because she was his mother too, and she was gone with nothing but a word from some servant in passing.

"Lady Frigga is dead."

Loki screamed. Curses flew from his lips and echoed off the walls of his cell. His little cage designed to keep him contained. So shuffled and hidden away that no one even told him the queen had died. That his mother was gone.

  
So when they came for him, he was prepared to die. Not without taking some of them with him, of course.

They poured into his room like hot lava into the sea and the room became a smear of magic, bodies, and blood. They finally caught ahold of him after he managed to rip another of their soldier’s throats out with his teeth. There was a light, then Loki fell away and became nothing.

* * *

 

When he next awoke, he had no other wish than to be back in his cell on Asgard. For the thing that woke him was pain. Soul shattering pain that echoed throughout body and shook him to his bones. Then, it was gone. He was alone, laying on a stone floor in utter darkness. The small room felt damp and hot, two things that greatly disagreed with Loki’s heritage.

This time, his prison itself was a form of torture. The heat alone was enough to cause him great suffering, but the never ending darkness was starting to wear on his eyes. He often found himself half asleep with eyes wide open and staring, simply because he thought they were already closed.

After several days of the Room, he was ripped from the darkness once more. The light was blinding and burned his eyes so badly he was seeing spots. There were rough hands dragging him to their destination. His escorts remained complexity silent, and Loki learned nothing of his new captors.

Upon reaching their destination, he was placed into a second room, even smaller than the dark one. Then, it was nothing but pain. Cuts on his skin, blood blossoming across his body. Crushing one limb, and than the other until they were reading to snap. Then a pause.

Then they started all over again.

  
Loki was never asked a single question, or ever told why they wanted him there. He never knew who, exactly, had him tortured for year after suffering year. No one uttered a word to him, not a question or a command. He was fed, sparingly, by another silent guard. They sometimes went for days simply ignoring him. No food, no company, nothing.

By the time he finally lost his mind, 14 years had passed.   
By the time he got it back, another 20 had passed in silence.   
On his 21st year in their captivity, Loki began to sing.

He knew all the ballads of Asgard by heart. He knew most of the elven songs, and some of the dwarfs. He forgot the song of the Frost Giants, and he had only heard one song from Midgard.   
That blast of sound that signaled the arrival of the Ironman.

So he sang. He sang to the damp walls of the Room a lullaby his mother used to sing him to sleep with. During his tortures in the Small Room, Loki sang a fighting song he and Thor used to sing together. When they walked him between his rooms, he sang a crude song about women who do anything for shiny stones. When he was most afraid, still shaking with pain from his most recent excruciation, he hummed that song he barely knew and had only heard for a moment in Germany. He never knew why, but it never mattered.

* * *

 

The day of his escape was not pretty. There was no glorious battle, or any dignity to be had.

Loki ripped organs from their chests with his bare hands, tore ears off with his teeth, and even managed to crush one between a door. The majority of his success was pure and simple luck.

Lucky that his guard came alone today, instead of the usual two. Lucky that Loki ran into only three other units until he was outside. He last stroke of luck was when he found a teleport station. It was manned by at least Twenty men with a variation of long and short range weapons.

He tore through them in ten minutes.

In the process, he was shot, stabbed, burned, had his hair ripped out, and something happened to his hip. Over all, it was worth the damage just to get to the device. The teleport device that would send him home. Loki’s heart swelled at the thought of seeing Asgard’s golden columns rise above him again. As he began to work his way through the controls, he realized that Asgard was actually no longer home.

The Aesir would not welcome him, even after all he had gone through. He had no illusions of any grander other than that golden cage, hidden away from the disappointed eyes of Odin and his golden son. No, he would not return there. Not when even his once brother had abandoned him.

But where? Where could he go to recover his strength and perhaps even grow a life again. He knew Odin would have warned the other realms of him, ordering them to return him to Asgard when they lay eyes on Loki. But perhaps, Odin would not warn the one realm no one expected him to return to. With a grimace, Loki set his course and stepped into the cylinder. For a tense moment, Loki feared the mechanism failed him. In his fear, he thought of the song that brought him the most comfort.

The next thing he knew, he was looking into the eyes of the same man that the song belonged to.

* * *

 

  
Someone had heard the crash from the kitchen. That someone just happened to be Steve, so maybe luck was on Loki’s side for once. Because as soon as the captain saw what was going on, he ripped Clint off of Loki and marched him right out of the room. Tony had been called up a few minutes later to ‘take care of his god’.

"Jesus!"

"Please refrain from screaming right now," Loki said, attempting his usual drawl. Tony was not fooled.

"Jesus," he repeated in almost a whisper. "Who did this? You’re bleeding all over again."

"It is hardly ‘all over’, Stark. I simply fell."

"Fell backwards and hit your head then decided to fall forwards onto a knife?"

"Precisely."

Tony gave him a sour look, his lips pursed together and his arms crossed. This went on for a while, the clock the only thing filling the silence.

Until, at last, Loki muttered, “Barton came in looking for a fight.”

"I hope you gave him one," Tony replied testily.

"I did not. My aim was to avoid a confrontation."

Tony hunkered down started poking around at Loki’s wounded shoulder. “If someone attacks you, you attack them right back. Even if it’s me.”

Loki’s smile was a little strange. Tony couldn’t quite place the emotion behind it, and decided he was probably just in pain.

"Would you attack me, then?"

"What?" Tony asked distractedly. His full attention was on the bleeding hole in from of him.

Loki leaned a little closer to him and muttered one more, “would you attack me, Anthony?”

Blinking, Tony turned sharply to meet Loki’s eyes. “No.”

"Barton mentioned you were not so terribly good at keeping promises."

"I keep the important ones," Tony corrected him, reaching behind his head to brush his fingers over Loki’s bleeding scalp. Loki’s lips drew together in a thin white line, but he didn’t make a sound.

"It feels like it’s already healing," Tony said quietly, still concerned.

"Of course it is," Loki replied with a hint of a smile, "I do heal rather fast."

"Then why do you still have a few scars from—"

"Those are different," Loki snapped and pulled away from Tony.

With a small huff, Tony pushed himself up and grabbed Loki in one swift movement. Tony saw, and ignored, the spark of fear in the god’s eye as he pulled him off the floor.

"Come on, time to bloody my bed again."

"I am perfectly—"

"You’re not fine," Tony interrupted, already pulling him to the elevator. "You’re shaking worse than when we pulled you out of the creator."

Loki went silent behind him, and Tony didn’t press it. It was painfully obvious the god had been traumatized by something during his brawl in the kitchen. He had that haunted look Tony had seen reflected in his own mirror one too many times.

Once in the elevator, Tony wondered to himself once more if he should put in an AC/DC only speaker. With a smile, he started to sing.

“ _I’m like evil I get under your skin  
Just like a bomb that’s ready to blow_—”

"That song," Loki interrupted suddenly.

"What? Don’t like it?"

"What is it? I’ve heard it before somewhere," Loki replied carefully.

Tony looked at him and thought back to where the god could have possibly heard it. He drew a blank.

"It’s called ‘Shoot to Thrill’," Tony said with a smile. "It’s one of my favorite songs."

"I like it."

Tony sang the entire song for him, and when Loki asked him to sing it again, he did.


	5. Not All There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this chapter. I've been sick and distracted all week and I sort of just typed it up like word vomit and I still don't know what I wrote.
> 
> I'm sorry.  
> ;_;

There was a room, and it didn't take long for Tony to realize that it wasn't a room, but his cave. It smelled like dirt and oil. The dry hot air tasted like copper in his mouth. Tasted like blood. Dim lights drew the walls in around him, and Tony felt smothered. He turned his head and met the dark eyes behind the glasses of his cell mate.  
  
Tony managed to drag himself out of the nightmares with less sweating and shaking than usual. He had long since mastered the art of holding in his screams after many nights of waking up Pepper. Of course, sometimes he lost all control and woke up screaming anyway. No one was perfect.  
  
He crawled out of the chair he had been sleeping in for the past three nights and stretched. His spine made a chorus of unhealthy cracks and pops to reprimand him for his sleeping choice. He cursed silently and glanced over at the bed, expecting to see it empty. Loki had moved back into his room again after the confrontation with Clint. It was only logical to keep the god close when there was a murderous elf on the loose.  
  
When he saw the lump of Loki still under the blankets, he lumbered over to the clock, wondering why he had woken up so early. The clock told him it was two in the afternoon. Two was normal for him. The odd part, two was abnormal for Loki.  
  
Loki was one of those creatures of habit, always up at noon. Well, one habit really. Nothing else fit on a schedule for Loki. Tony had to keep reminding himself 'God of Chaos' when Loki decided to do something else in the middle of a conversation, and left the room. Or instead of Fruitloops, Loki decided he wanted ham, and then it was eggs, waffles, an apple, a bar full of fruit juices, chicken wings, a cabbage. Loki finally settled on a yogurt cup and left the kitchen looking as though a druggie had blown through with the munchies.  
  
So no, Loki couldn't really be called habitual. But as soon as the clock hit twelve every morning, Loki vacated the bedroom. He would be out and shuffling down the hall, half sleep and humming under his breath. For Loki to not be up out out of bed at noon had been labeled an official Tower Impossibility.  
  
He crept closer, wary of what happened the last time he abruptly woke up the god, and peered over the edge of the blanket. Loki's eyes were wide open and staring at the wall on the other side of the bed.  
  
Tony leaned up again and said, "if you're awake, you don't have to wait around for me to get up."  
  
He got no response, so he leaned back over. Nothing had changed. In fact, Loki hadn't even blinked.  
  
"Loki?" He tried again, "can you hear me?"  
  
When nothing continued to happen, he reached over and shook the god's shoulder gently. Loki didn't flinch, or blink, or even attack him in his usual psychotic god way.  
  
"Oh shit, you're dead aren't you?" He asked, starting to panic.  
  
With a grimace and snuck two fingers around Loki's neck to check for a pulse. There was one, in fact it was going too fast. That wasn't, generally, a good sign when someone was laying perfectly still.  
  
"Loki, what the fuck are you doing?" He hissed, pulling the blanket back and turning the god over for further inspection. It was as if Loki had simply shut down mentally, while his body going into some sort of shock. Now that Loki was free of the blanket, Tony could see how much he was shivering and twitching.  
  
"Jarvis, get Thor in here now!"  
  
"He is away at the moment, sir. I will attempt to contact him."  
  
There was a soft sound that dragged his attention away from his own private panic attack and back to Loki's pale face. Brow furrowed, he leaned his head closer and pressed his ear almost against Loki's lips. The god was humming an unfamiliar tune, jumping over the notes as his breathe came in short gasps. Tony listened for a moment before forming a plan in his mind.  
  
He stretched out and pressed into Loki's side, placing his face close to the god's left ear. After clearing his throat, Tony began to hum a random pop song he heard the other day. He wasn't actually sure how it went, but he figured it didn't matter as long as it was a tune. When nothing changed with Loki, he tried another song, and another song, and another until he was running out of ideas. Maybe this wasn't such a good plan after all.  
  
He reached up and checked Loki's pulse once more. It was faster and the skin beneath his fingers felt hot.  
  
"God dammit!"  
  
Another wave of panic washed over him before something that had been nagging at the back of his mind stepped forward and made its presence known. Loki had been so adamant about it, learning that song the other day. Tony was sure he had heard the god singing it to himself in the shower hours later. Not that he was creeping up on the god in the bathroom, Loki could be pretty loud. He had heard hints of it off and on over the next two days, and he never bothered to question why Loki liked it so much. So the god had good taste, there's nothing wrong with that. Except, there was definitely something more to it then that. Loki came out of the shower and practically melted into the blankets. He was nearly smiling. Tony had assumed that the god had 'released' his 'tension' like any other guy. But maybe it wasn't anything physical, but a physiological link to....  
  
 _My favorite AC/DC song._ _  
  
_ _This is so fucked up._  
  
Tony stopped thinking and began to sing the strangest lullaby in his entire life.  
  
_____________  
  
There was the Room, and it didn't take long for Loki to remember that is was where he had always been. It smelled like sweat and blood, and mold. It was choking him with each shallow breath he managed to drag through cracked lips. Loki turned his head and pressed his face into the warm floor.  
  
 _Don't know which way you wanna turn..._  
  
Loki tensed. There was never a sound in the Room, save his own voice. Turning away from the damp and pain, Loki looked up into the never ending darkness above him. He listened carefully for the voice he was sure he had imagined.  
  
 _Just keep coming..._  
  
There was something up in the darkness, but Loki couldn't even bring himself to sit up. His chest felt cold and heavy, as though he hadn't breathed deeply in a long time. In fact, he wasn't sure if he was breathing at all anymore. The light grew bigger, or closer, and Loki heard the voice reverberate around the room.  
  
" _And put your hand out to me_ "  
  
The sound shattered stone, and the dark room crumbled away into the piercing light.  
  
  
  
Bright, too bright for his eyes, and it burned as much as the first time his captors dragged him from the Room to torture him. His breath caught in his throat painfully until the voice spoke again.  
  
"Loki?! Thank fucking god! I thought you were dying over here on the bed while I was just sleeping. Do you have any idea how pissed off I would be? Firstly, no one dies in my bed, secondly, no on dies like that without me at least trying to help them, thirdly, you've done enough dying lately. Please stop trying to die around me, I'm starting to have heart problems. Or worse! What if my hair falls out?! What if I get a bald spot?! I would have to wear the suit 24/7. No one would ever see Tony Stark again. That's a crime, Loki, a _crime_."  
  
Loki blinked at the face of the man talking and tried to comprehend what was going on. Stark continued to babble on about how often he wished his father to get a bald spot -the bastard never did!- while his heart rate slowed to a normal pace.  
  
"So it worked, huh?"  
  
Loki blinked again, staring into the brown, worried eyes beside him. "What?"  
  
" _Shoot to Thrill_ brought you out of it. Whatever 'it' was," Stark said quietly, all the energy from his rant spent.  
  
Loki swallowed nervously. It was one thing for it to calm him while he was captured, it was another thing entirely to be relying on this mortal to sing to him as aid. To make matters worse, it just _had_ to be a song heavily associated with Stark. It was, overall, mortifying.  
  
"Yes, perhaps it worked," Loki replied slowly, "or perhaps it was simply your whiny voice that dragged me from my nightmares."  
  
"I do _not_ have a whiny voice," the mortal whined, "I'll have you know, it has been described as manly and sexy."  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"Why that song?"  
  
"I... that I am unsure about," Loki admitted, smiling ruefully. "It was something that stuck in my head and remained there while I was..."  
  
"Tortured?" Stark suggested gently. His eyes were dark, almost black. All the previous humor had fallen away from his face, leaving an almost scarily sober expression in its place. Loki had never seen the man without his mask before. Strip away the comedian, the hero, and underneath was a powerfully dark Tony Stark.  
  
  
"Yes," he breathed, staring back into those dark eyes.  
  
"Where did you even hear..." Stark's mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening slightly. After a few moments he muttered, "Jesus Christ, it was in Germany."  
  
Loki froze, not daring to drag his eyes away from Stark. He felt a wave of emotion that he hadn't felt since he left Asgard in the hands of his brother. Utter embarrassment.  
  
"It was elsewhere, I assure you. Perhaps one of the scientists played it from that singing contraption they often gathered around in the lab."  
  
"And here I thought you were the god of lies," the man replied with a smirk. "That was pathetic, even by my standards."  
  
Loki frowned and decided to give in with what little dignity he had left. The mortal had already seen him at his worst. By the Norns, he had even asked for him to kill him.  
  
"Fine," he snapped, "I did hear it in Germany. I did not know the words before you told me, though."  
  
"Any reason in particular for remembering it? Personally, when I was being tortured, I sort of lost all my music in my head."  
  
Stark was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was clearly a painful memory, no matter how lightly he spoke on the subject. Loki had only spent a short time around the man since he arrived at the tower. In that time, Stark had proven to be one who always surround himself with music. He would find a way to play it, no matter what room he was in. If for some reason it wasn't being played for him, he would sing loudly to himself. It wasn't all that unpleasant, if Loki was being honest. He would never tell him, but Stark had a nice voice.  
  
To hear that Stark had 'lost' his music during his ordeals in the past, dealt a blow to Loki. He couldn't even imagine the feeling, for someone so immersed in music, to not have it there in his greatest time of need.  
  
"Why... Why was it lost, do you think?" He asked at last, feeling awkward.  
  
"I don't know," Stark replied in a quiet voice. He worried his lip for a moment and continued, "I think it was just one of the many things I lost in the cave. I spent months, after I got back, relearning my favorite songs."  
  
He smiled sadly. "Pepper thought I had lost my mind for real that time. She didn't understand at all. She never really did understand..."  
  
Loki's lips twitched into a faint scowl at the dejected look on the man's face. It was an irritating sadness, all pining and moping. No where as deep and as fascinating as Stark's cave.  
  
"She and I, uh..." Stark began awkwardly, looking confused. "She thought I would fix myself for her, and I tried. Lord knows I tried. But I'm still me, and when she started expecting me to change the very things that make me 'me', things fell apart."  
  
Loki's scowl softened slightly against his will. He had no idea why Stark was telling him this, but it was distracting enough from his own problems to be worthy of his attention. It was also something he could use as leverage if he ever needed to break the man's mind. Ignoring the small prang of guilt at that thought, Loki focused back on the brown eyes in front of him. They had grown resigned since he became lost in his own thoughts.  
  
"This woman, you miss her?" Loki asked, feigning interest.  
  
"No."  
  
The sudden answer startled him. That wasn't what the emotions he read on the mortal's face had told him. An outright lie, then?  
  
"Surely that is not true," Loki commented, "you're face says otherwise."  
  
"My face says shut up about my face," Stark drawled, "My mouth says 'no, I don't miss her'. I miss the feeling of being wanted by someone, but I don't miss her anymore. She was just... Not the right fit for me. Plain and simple. Cut and dry."  
  
At his words, Loki looked at Stark's mouth. He found himself caught up in the movement of them until Stark cleared his throat.  
  
"Are you even listening? I kind of hope you weren't," he said with a sheepish smile.  
  
"All I heard was some whining about a woman you seem to be no longer interested in."  
  
Stark glared at him for a moment before shrugging it off and sitting up. He seemed uncomfortable suddenly. "If you're up, why don't we go find some food."  
  
They re-converged in Tony's private kitchen, Stark already pulling things from the fridge and humming. Loki closed his eyes and saw the Room. It was always there behind his eyelids, humid, soundless, and sickeningly damp. Loki opened his eyes to pancakes, pathetic jokes about his hair, and crinkly eyed smiles.  
  
He still was unsure which was one the dream, and which was the reality.  
  
  
_________  
  
  
Tony was in his shop when he heard the screams. He had taken to leaving the door open now that Clint had started his own Loki hunt. Tony made it clear that if he was down here, Loki could come down at any time to avoid the archer. Steve had helped with Clint the first day, but made a point of 'staying out of it' when Clint snuck his way back into the penthouse again through one of the windows. He free climbed up four floors from the party deck to the top floor of the tower. Tony had printed out a little gold star for his new monumental achievement.  
  
Jarvis put a stop to most of his acrobatics soon after. The elevator no longer stopped at the penthouse floor, the staircase doors were locked, the windows locked and alarmed, and hourly scans were run on the air vents.Even though Tony trusted Jarvis to handle it while he was working, he still opted to leave the door open. He really didn't want to walk into another scene like last time.  
  
That's where his thoughts were lingering when he heard the sound that would stay with him for the rest of his life. It was so sudden and grotesque Tony dropped his drill right then and there and booked it out of the room.  
  
He was sure Clint was filling Loki with arrows, or was Hulk breaking him apart all over the floor, or Natasha might be stabbing him repeatedly, or maybe Thor was giving him a taste of lightning.  
  
What he didn't expect was to find Loki on the floor in the hallway leading to his workshop. Tony almost tripped over the curled up figure before he even realized that the sound was coming from him.  
  
"Loki?! Jesus Loki why are you screaming?!"  
  
The sudden silence as Loki's screams cut off came as a shock. Tony jumped a little in surprise before crouching over the god. Just as he moved to place a soothing hand on his back, Loki took a shuddering breath and screamed again. It was harsher now, as if the pain had increased during the short lull.  
  
"Loki, stop... Loki..." Tony bit his lip and tried to roll him over. The god's body was so tense, Tony could hardly move him at all. After all his attempts to unfold him, Tony ended up with a stiff ball of a god in his lap. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, he just needed to get him off the floor. There was something horribly wrong seeing Loki curled up like an animal. It hit him in the chest with a feeling he wasn't quite ready to explore yet.  
  
"Loki," he muttered over the keening sounds still coming from the god. "Loki where are you?"  
  
Surprisingly, the god answered, "Small Room..."  
  
Tony frowned and started to run his fingers through Loki's hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "Why are you screaming?"  
  
"It hurts... It hurts too much to s-sing."  
  
"You sing in this room?" Tony asked, his heart clenching. This is what Loki meant, when he talked about music. No wonder he was so fixated on that song, and sounded so shocked when Tony told him of his torture experience. Songs had kept Loki going, where as logic took over Tony's brain and pushed everything else out.  
  
"I can't," Loki moaned and shuddered. "It ...hurts."  
  
"Come on, Loki," Tony muttered, pulling the god closer to his chest. "Fight this. You've come past it already, you're safe."  
  
Loki was silent for a moment before his voice picked up again in a soft, raspy tone.  
  
"Þegar úlfurinn kemur niður af fjallinu..."  
  
Hoping that singing was a good sign, Tony continued to run his fingers through the god's hair, unsure of what else to do. Loki went on in a wobbly voice for an hour until he fell silent.  
  
  
"Anthony..."  
  
Tony jerked himself back from his wandering thoughts and looked down at Loki's startled face.  
  
"Good morning sunshine," he replied with forced cheerfulness. "Welcome back."  
  
"Wha... happened?"  
  
Tony swallowed uncomfortably and looked into the nervous green eyes still looking up from his lap.  
  
"You kind of left us there for a while." He frowned and added, "Said you were in a room?"  
  
Loki, who had relaxed slowly as he sang, tensed back up again in a second. Her jerked himself off of Tony's lap and glared at him.  
  
"What did I say?!"  
  
"Just that you were in a small room and that it... hurt."  
  
With a guttural snarl, Loki shoved him against the wall with an arm pressed into Tony's throat.  
  
"You will never speak of this to Thor, nor any—"  
  
"I won't say anything," Tony croaked.  
  
Panting slightly, Loki's eyes narrowed at him. "I will make you wish I had killed you..."  
  
"Loki, everyone has secrets."  
  
Loki's anger slowly melted away, and he pulled the arm back from Tony's neck in stiff, jerky movements.  
  
"Yes," Loki agreed sullenly, still staring at him.  
  
"I'll keep it between us," Tony whispered, pulling himself up and rubbing his neck. It was probably bruised. Great, how was he going to explain that?  
  
"...thank you."  
  
  
It was so faint and hesitant, Tony wasn't even sure he heard it. He stared back at the god for a long moment before Loki looked away with a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.  
  
Tony smiled to himself and decided that, maybe, he could allow Loki to keep one more secret.


	6. Acquiesce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: Loki was held captive for 55 years, but Loki is missing a while due to his mental breakdown. 
> 
> Also, unedited.

 

  
  
Here it was, that dreaded conversation. The conversation he had so carefully avoided for such a long while. Yet here it was, beginning at last.  
  
Loki scowled at the blond seated across the table from him, hoping to delay him a little longer with an unresponsive attitude. Thor had already tried four times to get his attention over the past week. Loki had successfully managed to disappear from his grasp and then promptly snuck away to find some place safe to avoid his bother. That usually meant hiding in Stark's lab, since very few people were allowed in there. If he cared for the mortal's rules, he might have actually felt special to be one of the few privileged enough to be granted access. Regardless of such allowances, the inventor made it clear that he would hand Loki over to the director of SHIELD the second he touched any of Stark's tools or inventions. Loki made it just as clear that the mortal's pathetic attempts at mimicking magic held no interest to him. That turned into a rather fascinating argument. Which, in turn, morphed into a three hour long discussion about the similarities between the mortal's science, and Loki's magic. Not once did the mortal mention his breakdown or any knowledge he gained from witnessing it. In turn, Loki never spoke of the nightmares that seemed to plague Anthony during his long nights in the chair.  
  
"Loki," came Thor's voice, jostling him from his thoughts.  
  
"What is it you _want_? You finally have me here," he narrowed his eyes, "so speak!"  
  
"If you had ceased your game of hide and seek and let me speak to you earlier, I would not be bothering you now."  
  
"Or you could stop bothering me all together and let me be."  
  
"You know I cannot do that. There are things we must speak of, if you wish to stay here further."  
  
" _Oh_?" Loki asked acidly, "What, pray tell, are the new conditions for staying in my wonderful cage? Should I no longer eat Anthony's food? Am I to be chained and locked away in another glass room?"  
  
"No! Brother, enough," Thor replied, his patience already run thin. "Our father, and myself, wish to know what happened to you. When we arrived at your cell, there was... blood. Everywhere, there was blood and yet no sign if you."  
  
"I do not see why I must tell you," Loki snapped. What foolishness. Why was it that he was compelled to tell everyone of his most painful memories, while others were allowed to lock them away? Did anyone demand Odin tell the tale of his lost eye? No. Did no one force Anthony to explain the events that cause him to scream in his sleep? Loki doubted anyone knew he secrets, not a clever man like Stark. Not a man with a thicker mask than Loki could procure these days.  
  
"Because we must know, before our father decides how to proceed in the ways of your punishment," Thor replied carefully, folding his hands on front of him on the table.  
  
"My punishment? Were years of torture not enough for the All Father? Does he still need his 'pound of flesh'?" Loki snarled and leaned back in his chair, his eyes flashing dangerously. "What else does the King wish to take away from me? Tell me, Thor, what is _left_ for him to take?"  
  
Thor's eyes darkened. Thunder rolled on the horizon in response. This was the part of the conversation Loki wished to avoid the most. Thor's never ending defense for his father. Loki was always wrong, always the one who seemed to misunderstand Odin's heartfelt lessons of mortality. Just once, only once, Loki wanted to hear Thor say, 'you are right'.  
  
"You act as though we orchestrated your kidnapping and torture!" Thor yelled instead, his hands clenching the table. "Father did not send you to your doom, you brought yourself to that prison. If not for your actions, you would not have even been there in the _first_ place. Loki, you were the one who angered the Titan, why is it that we get the blame for any consequences you faced for your actions?!"  
  
"I only angered him with my trap! His rage comes from shame. Shame that my trick, in all its simplicity, fooled even _him,_ " Loki hissed and stood up from his chair angrily before he realized what he let slip. He froze, staring down at the shocked face across the table. Thor was not supposed to know that. Thor was not supposed to know anything about what happened in the void, nor the past fifty or so years of torture.  
  
Loki slipped back into his chair, mindless panic beginning to flood his system. The golden son was never to be allowed in. There was no place for the good and the just in that never ending darkness. Only monsters could dwell there, and there Loki did dwell.  
  
Thor leaned over the table, his blue eyes wide and curious. "Loki, what is this trap of which you speak?"  
  
Loki shook his head and looked down at his hands, trying to reassemble his mask before giving any more away.  
  
"Loki... what did you _do_?"  
  


* * *

  
  
Here it was, that dreaded conversation. The conversation he had carefully avoided for so damn long. Yet here he was, being held against his will in his own living room.  
  
Tony glared at the blond sitting on the chair across from him, hoping to suddenly come into his Fire Starter powers at last. Nothing changed, unless you count the slight twitch of irritation under Steve's eye. That was rewarding enough, Tony would take it.  
  
It was infuriating to have finally been caught. He had been doing so well in avoiding everyone, he almost forgot they lived in the same tower. In fact, the only person he had seen all week was Loki. That was mostly because they shared a room and the god seemed determined to avoid people as well. He actually made good company down in his workshop. Well, when he made it down there and didn't fall somewhere in the hallway screaming at hallucinations.  
  
Tony shook that memory from his mind. No, it was better to remember Loki while he was talking about something of interest. What had started as a obnoxious argument about who's super powered energy source was better, turned into the best discussion Tony had had in almost a year. Between Bruce's frequent trips to India and Jane's general lack of time, Tony didn't get a lot of intelligent conversation around the tower. It usually came down to grunts and pointing at whatever objects they wanted. TV remote? Grunt. Food? Grumble. Hand me that ocular lens? Hiss.  
  
"Tony," Steve said quietly, as if afraid to set him off by interrupting his thoughts.  
  
"What? Seriously, what the _hell_ do you want?"  
  
Steve jerked back a little, clearly not expecting his tone. Tony felt a little gleam of satisfaction at startling the soldier.  
  
"Tony," he began again, his voice more stern, "you know we need to talk about what's been going on with you and Loki."  
  
"With me and Loki? You make it sound like there's some sort of romance going on behind everyone's backs." Tony snorted and leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms. "If there is, it's going on behind _my_ back too."  
  
"What _has_ been going on, then? I mean, we hardly ever see either of you, and it's not that hard to figure out where you both spend your time." Steve paused and added quietly, "together."  
  
Tony flinched at the implication and put on his best nasty smile. "If you're saying that Loki and I are holding secret rendezvous to take over the world, I'm afraid you were closer with the illicit love affair."  
  
Steve smacked the arm of the chair, causing it to crack alarmingly. "Dammit, Stark! Could you be serious for a single moment in your life? This isn't some random woman you brought home and got drunk with. This is the god of chaos, the guy who lead one of the most devastating attacks on New York to this day."  
  
Something inside Tony snapped, and his smile slipped enough to show a little of his real anger. "Do you think I forgot all that?" He asked venomously, "Did you _really_ think that, in my supposed drunken haze, I had some how forgotten what happened? Who did Loki throw out the window again? Was it you? No, I'm pretty sure it was yours truly. Maybe you're the one who needs to get his memory checked, _old man_."  
  
Steve was silent for a while, looking Tony up and down with a critical eye before he spoke. "So maybe you've forgiven him for throwing you out a window, and maybe you've somehow accepted that he killed all those people. But what I can't understand is how you can look him in the eye after he killed Coulson. You were closer to him than all of us, yet you laugh with his murderer?"  
  
Tony opened and shut his mouth with a snap. It seemed that Fury hadn't spread the news of Coulson's miraculous survival yet. He wasn't even sure if he was allowed to tell anyone, let alone the ordeal of explaining how he even knew.  
  
"It's complicated," he replied with a sigh.  
  
"Now who's making it sound like a relationship?"  
  
"Can it, Steve. Watching you trying to be clever is _painful_." Tony sat up and stretched, wincing slightly. "Ow... Damn."  
  
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"  
  
"I'm fine, mom. I just got a little bent out of shape. Save your worry for Clint's mental health."  
  
Steve stood up and gave him his serious look. "Tony, what did you do?"  
  
___________  
  
"Nothing of importance," Loki drawled in response, finally managing his typical careless expression. It shouldn't have been that hard to recreate. Something had obviously changed over the years. He had grown weak.  
  
"You speak as though you fooled the Titan, but I fail I see this trap you supposedly set."  
  
"What you fail to see, could fill the sky, Thor."  
  
"Do not test me any longer," Thor growled, standing up fully to move around the table towards Loki. "Tell me what you did, or tell me what happened to you after they captured you. Your choice."  
  
Loki glared up at the man he once called brother, and thought. If he could, he would choose neither. But testing his patience was an assured way to be sent back to Asgard's prisons. Since Thor was no longer the man he confided in, no longer someone he could trust. For who could trust someone who abandoned you so thoroughly, he failed to even tell you of your mother's death?  
  
No, he would not tell Thor anything. Nothing important, anyway.  
  
"I tricked the Titan," he began slowly, "by leading him to Midgard through a small hole, with a weak army. How I fooled him, I leave to your imagination. But what I did do was put on a grand performance for everyone, while I orchestrated my _own_ escape from his grasp." Loki met his eyes and smiled sharply. "Is that what you wished to know?"  
  
Thor's glare had softened into a confused scowl, his fingers picking at the fabric of his sleeve. It was a habit he never seemed to grow out of, even after thousands of years.  
  
"You mean to tell me, that the entire attack on this city was simply a distraction to aid in your escape?"  
  
"Precisely."  
  
"What of your dreams of ruling Earth? The throne you spoke so fondly of?!"  
  
Loki quirked a brow at him. "Did you ever, honestly, think that I would want to rule over this homely little rock? I may not be a prince of Asgard, but I will never allow myself to fall as far as that. The humans served their purpose, and that was for one thing and one thing only. My escape."  
  
"Do you feel... no regret, then?" Thor asked, his voice soft and painful.  
  
"I regret many things. If I listed them all, I would have to start with you and we would be here for days."  
  
"Brother, do you feel no regrets for what you did to this planet? To the people of this city alone?" Thor paused and frowned. "Even to Stark?"  
  
Loki twitched. He did his best to hide it by leaning back with a confident smile, but he saw something flicker in Thor's eyes.  
  
Damn his foolish brother and his rare moments of intuition.  
  
"I regret wasting so much life, for a single purpose," Loki replied honestly, choosing to ignore the latter question. "You know I am not typically a wasteful person, and I always abhorred excessive amounts of violence. But there was a great need in me to utilize it that time. There was..." He trailed off and looked at his hands. He half expected to see the scepter there. "I had a hunger I could not stem, a thirst I could not quench. Thor, you could never understand. It was as though I had been starved for an eternity, and then given a feast. The tesseract was that feast, and my mind gorged itself upon it until it broke."  
  
Thor moved to speak, but stopped at Loki's gesture for silence. He continued, "cracks formed and bit by little bit, everything that made me myself leaked out. All that was left was the hunger and the tesseract. To this day, I do not even know how I returned to myself in my short time on Midgard. But the longer I was away from him, the more of me returned. Until I realized I must get away, and my plans were forced to change."  
  
"So you fooled him," Thor spoke slowly, "by leading him to us."  
  
"Indeed, I did. Did it not work out wonderfully for everyone?" Loki asked sarcastically.  
  
  
Thor shook his head sadly and leaned against the table as if his legs may give out. "Why did you not speak of this to father? Things could have gone so differently."  
  
"My father is dead, so I do not see how that would be possible. If you are referring to Odin, I highly doubt the king would be as trusting as you are."  
  
"If we go convince him together—"  
  
"Thor," Loki interrupted, "you seem to still be under the impression that we are siblings, bonded by trust and love." Loki chuckled darkly and stood up. "A brother would have come to me in prison. A brother would have told me the fate of our mother. A brother, I have _not_."  
  
Thor's eyes slowly lifted to meet his, the blue softened by tears that threatened to fall. "Loki," he whispered.  
  
"I believe we are done here."  
  
"Loki," he tried once more, "what happened to you while you were gone?"  
  
Loki sneered and replied tersely, "I was _tortured_." He turned and left the room, ignoring the quiet sob from behind him.  
  


* * *

  
  
"It doesn't hurt that much," Tony said, glaring at Steve in a threatening manner. He was daring the man to come closer, but also attempting to ward him off. It was reverse psychology. Sort of.  
  
"You look pale, you have dark circles, and you keep wincing," the soldier stated plainly, "Tony, you _never_ wince, you smile through it. So what's going on?"  
  
Tony wanted nothing more than to stand up and stomp out of there all angry and loud. But his back was actually out and he was kind of stuck on the couch.  
  
"I hurt my back, okay? Does it ease your troubled mind?"  
  
"Tony, if you started the bungee jumping again, I really don't—"  
  
"Don't need to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?" Tony interrupted. "Steve, stop mothering me. You're giving me traumatic flash backs."  
  
Steve actually scowled at that and stood to leave. Looking down at him, he spoke in a voice full of disdain. "I don't know why it's so hard for you to accept people's help or even that we care. But it's actually getting a little tiresome, a really hurtful." His face softened before adding, "feel better, Stark."  
  
Tony stared at the space the captain once occupied for several minutes. He actually almost felt bad for snubbing Steve with his usual harsh words. He couldn't really, because that's just how he was. No one was accepted, no one was allowed in. There was no back door for the 'special someone' to slip in and magically heal him. Hell, there wasn't a 'special someone' anymore, anyway. And if anyone proved that love does not conquer all, it was Pepper.  
  
That's not where he wanted his thoughts to go, so he steered them towards the main point of their recent conversation. Loki.  
  
The god who had somehow taken over his space, and had also somehow managed to not piss him off yet. They didn't always talk when they went from his room, to the kitchen, to the lab. Which was perfect, because his mind was usually caught up in whatever he was doing anyway. Standing up from his glorious chair-bed, drinking coffee, working on suit, drinking more coffee. He was surprised he even managed to get to sleep most nights. Thanks to Loki, he was now almost on some sort of schedule. Basically, whenever the god got bored- or whatever emotion it was- and left, Tony would follow.  
  
There was another thing. Loki seemed to finally be sleeping better. At least, there hadn't been any new frozen to the bed instances since the first one. He still woke up screaming sometimes, so it wasn't perfect. But hell, who was?  
  
More than once over the course of the week, one of them woke the other up with their whimpering or thrashing around. Then, they would just sit there, or lay there in Loki's case, and stare at one anther until their eyes started to droop again. It wasn't the heartfelt talk from Pepper, or her gentle hands running up and down his back. But somehow, it worked. Damn, it almost worked better.  
  
"Great, I sing to him, and he stares at me," Tony muttered to the empty room, forcing himself out of the chair with a painful moan. With a short, determined glare at the door, he hobbled his way across the room and headed to the one place that wasn't full of people caring about him.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Loki looked up at the familiar sound of Anthony shuffling into the workroom. He knew that he wasn't usually allowed in there alone, but he simply needed a place to escape his brother's tearful face. All that 'brotherly love', and he never truly understood what it meant to actually trust him. Trust beyond a doubt, to love unconditionally.  
  
"Hey," Stark called out, with much less of his usual exuberance. "How was your day?"  
  
Loki watched him carefully out of the corner of his eye, taking in the facts. Anthony had clearly been talking to someone he disliked, but respected enough not to kick them out of the tower. Or to punch them, apparently. His brown eyes looked back with a mixture disappointment, sadness and pain. Not Fury or the two spies, he would look more scared. Thor was with him, so that left...  
  
"The captain?"  
  
"You creep me out sometimes," Tony said with a small laugh, wincing as he sat down on a stool. "In a good way."  
  
Loki felt a smile come to him naturally, and for a moment he froze in confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be angry? He had just come from one of the most annoying, painful conversations in his life. Why was he feeling so... content?  
  
"So you're hiding from someone too. I'm assuming it's Thor again?"  
  
Loki nodded and leaned against the work table next to the man. They both stared at one another for a moment, until Anthony let out a snort of laughter. Which, in turn caused Loki to snicker. Which quickly developed into an ungraceful mixture of chuckling and quiet, wheezing laughter.  
  
"Oh man," Tony groaned, leaning down to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. "It's not even funny, and I just hurt my back more over something not funny. What is _wrong_ with us?"  
  
"Many things, I believe. But we seem to do well enough."  
  
Loki pushed off the table and laid a hand on the man's back. He got a twitch and a whimper in response to his touch. Instead of pulling away, Loki slid both hands up and then down along the spine, and was rewarded with a much happier groan. Loki's smile widened. He really should help the poor mortal out. Since his pain was technically Loki's fault anyway. He had seen the man unfold from the arm chair with a long painful moan every morning. He had also watched him carefully hide his pain when he thought Loki wasn't looking.  
  
Well, enough was enough.  
  
"Be still a moment," he commanded, before closing his eyes. Healing himself was a somewhat unconscious process. Healing others required a better concentration, and a much more fastidious touch.  
  
"What are you doing to my baiiIIIIIEEEEE?!"  
  
Loki chuckled to himself as the magic soaked through the man's skin into his damaged muscles. His amusement at Anthony's response was short lived. Something inside the man thrummed in response to his magic, starling him from his concentration. His eyes flew open in surprise and he jerked his hands away, breaking the connection.  
  
Tony was panting when he turned around slowly. Only then did Loki see the way his hands gripped the circlet of light in his chest as if it pained him. "What... What the fuck was that?!"  
  
"I... My apologies. I only meant to help."  
  
"You were..." Anthony paused and leaned back, then forward again. He repeated it a few times before he cracked a wide grin. "You fixed my back! Oh praise the god I don't believe in. Or, actually, praise you. You're a god right? I can believe in something now." Then he laughed, whatever pain in his chest seemingly forgotten already.  
  
Loki just gaped at him. His mask was down, yet he cared not. He could not hold back the pleasant wash of affection he felt towards those words. He was trusted, or at least believed in. A man he had done terrible things to, ruined his home, his city, and had nearly killed. Of all the people in the Nine Realms, he was the only one who said such a thing to him.  
  
"You," he began weakly, "you _believe_ in me?"  
  
Anthony stopped flexing his back long enough to notice Loki's mood. His smile slipped a little, but eyes still sparkled with amazement.  
  
"Of course," he replied easily, "you haven't killed me yet, you make a mean omelette, you're actually good company, and you just fixed my damn back."  
  
"Plus, you successfully resisted the urge to pick up my stuff from around the lab," he added with a smug smile. "Don't think I haven't noticed you eyeing things. You're as curious as a cat, admit it."  
  
"I... yes, but..."  
  
Anthony leaned close again, this time not to stretch his back but to pat Loki's arm gently. "Don't worry about it. I'm probably crazy to trust you as much as I do, but when has my insanity proven to be wrong?"  
  
Loki shook his head a little. "I am sure there have been plenty of times it has gone awry."  
  
"Maybe 12% of the time it goes wrong. That's low, considering how many leaps of so called 'faith' I've performed in my lifetime."  
  
"So you refuse to believe in your god, yet you trust in me?" Loki asked, leaning back to smirk down at the man.  
  
"Don't let it go to your head, I'm a man of science faced with magic powers. If I can see it, I'll believe it." he stood up quickly and grinned. "Next time don't do it behind my back, literally. I want to watch you work."  
  
"You wish to see my magic?"  
  
"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."  
  
Loki arched a brow. "I believe I can accept those terms," he replied smoothly. "Oh, but one more thing."  
  
Anthony froze midway through picking up a gauntlet and blinked at him nervously. "Yeeeess?"  
  
"You need to stop sleeping in the chair," Loki ordered.  
  
"But, bed. You. Clint. _My bed_."  
  
Loki let out a bark of laughter, startling him. "I return your bed to you, only if you allow me a room near yours. I am still not at my best, as much as it pains me to admit it."  
  
Anthony was gazing at him with a strange fascination and took a moment to respond. "Oh, right. Sure thing. I mean, we could just share it but I'm sort of concerned with the amount of flailing we both do. I don't want either of us to wake up missing a limb."  
  
Loki chuckled at the images that were brought to his mind. "I fear that would raise further suspicions amongst your friends."  
  
If Anthony's expression had been strange before, it was now down right confusing. At Loki's words, he flushed a brilliant red and opened and closed his mouth a few times.  
  
"Did you... were you _listening_?" He asked in a choked voice. "Wait, no you couldn't have. JARVIS would have told me."  
  
"Listening to what?" Loki frowned in confusion. What was this emotion the mortal was expressing? He seemed flustered, almost embarrassed. "What happened?"  
  
"Nothing illicit!" Tony barked and then proceeded to blush further before turning away abruptly. "I mean, nothing _important_. Just something I joked about with Steve. Not even funny, really."  
  
Loki waited behind as the man set off to work on his suit, muttering to himself while he dropped a few things.  
  
Illicit? Stark had done something against the rules? That was no secret, as far as Loki could see. Most of what Anthony had done, and gotten away with, seemed to break some laws.  
  
Loki sighed a little and tried to place it in the context of their conversation. It had started with sharing a bed, then lead to suspicions of his friends.  
  
 _Oh._  
  
Illicit could also be applied to a relationship. Loki's attention snapped back to the man at work. His cheeks were still flushed, and he dropped three more things while he watched.  
  
 _Oh._  
  
A relationship between themselves. That was what Anthony had spoken of with the captain. That was what was making him blunder around at the mere mention of sharing a bed. Loki felt his own cheeks start to redden at the realization. His mind began to play scenarios he would never have even dreamed of before. What startled him the most, was that none of them bothered him. In fact, they only excited him more. In fact, he almost wished they were real. In fact, they were almost _already_ real.  
  
 _Oh._  
  
Loki cursed under his breath and turned his own blushing face away to hide it. The events from the past week or so each took on a whole new meaning. Certain emotions he had felt were suddenly horribly transparent. Feelings that should not have been apparent in any way, shape, or form. Loki ground his fist into his eyes and willed the thoughts away.  
  
Oh, he was in _trouble_.  
  
  
  



	7. Loose Lips Sink Ships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -unedited

 

  
Steve Rogers would say he was an observant man, even long before the serum changed his body into a super-powered soldier. There may still be things that he missed due to the culture shock and his somewhat limited knowledge of relationships, but he usually caught on when something in the environment changed.  
  
Steve had kept an eye on Tony Stark's habits and activities ever since he and Ms. Potts separated rather explosively. Everyone had heard the arguments. Even Bruce listened with concern, usually locked away in his sound proof lab to avoid stressful conflicts. After she left, everyone continued to keep an eye on him, staying at a safe distance in hopes of avoiding his wrath. When the expected destruction and screaming didn't come, they started to relax back in their usual places in the tower. Things seemed to be back to normal. They were wrong.  
  
When the other shoe finally dropped, no one had their eye on him like they were supposed to. It was hardly their fault, considering Stark always _did_ like to do the unexpected. Steve had been working over another punching bag when the tower shook from the force of serval consecutive explosions. He rushed upstairs to find the source of the attack, and ran into the others along the way. They didn't quite know what to expect, considering how often they got attacked by Doom's bots in the past year. When they arrived, it wasn't the burning hole in the wall, or the charred mass that was once a couch, or even the multiple weapons Stark had activated on his suit. It was the dark, nasty laughter coming from him that really scared them.  
  
Needless to say, they paid a _lot_ more attention to him after that. Steve had started keeping notes on his drinking habits, even going as far as to take inventory of his many liquor cabinets. JARVIS kept him updated on some of his activities, but Steve had a feeling the robot only told him what Stark allowed him to tell. Which, in the end, was mostly useless day-to-day stuff. There were a few exceptions where JARVIS took things into his own hands. Usually when the tower was in the state of emergency.  
  
There was a defining incident a few months after Thor's visit to tell them his brother had gone missing. Tony wandered off alone to his workshop after a long stint of bio-science babbling between the two resident scientists. They had been coming up some interesting experiments on what was apparently some sort of luminescent bacteria that Stark wanted to apply to his armor for some reason. It wasn't anything the soldier could follow, but it sure looked pretty when they turned out the lights.  
  
It had only been a few minutes since Tony escaped to this sanctuary before an alarm He had never heard before went off. Steve, who had been lurking around for another chance to see the lab aglow again, looked at Bruce for an explanation.  
  
"That's a biohazard alert!" Bruce shouted, pushing him out of the lab. They were already half way out the door when he paused to look around. "The doors _should_ be sealing down if it were this lab... something's not right."  
  
Steve frowned and was about to ask the scientist where else there would be a biohazard in the tower, when a voice interrupted him.  
  
"There seems to be a hazardous, airborne material in Mr. Stark's work shop. The area is sealed off, but i'm afraid Mr. Stark is in critical danger."  
  
They ran down stairs, and Steve tried not to think about the panicking scientist hot on his heels. The last thing he needed was Hulk to suddenly appear behind him while they barreled down the staircase.  
  
When they arrived, the doors were sealed and Stark was collapsed on the floor by his work bench. Bruce had turned around to take a few deep breaths before trying to assess the situation.  
  
"JARVIS," he addressed the robot, "what the hell did Tony release into the air, and please tell me you shut off all the connecting vents to the main system."  
  
"All vents going to and from this room run on their own circuit," JARVIS said, "Everyone outside of the workshop is safe. Mr. Stark, however, is in danger of serious damage to his nervous system if he is not removed from the current environment."  
  
"What can we do?"  
  
"I vented the contaminated air immediately, but he still seems to be affected. I detected elements of mercury and Phosgene."  
  
Bruce went pale. "You're kidding me... what the hell was he _doing_ in there?! We need to get in, now!"  
  
"Are we safe?" Steve asked, glancing between the limp body on the floor and the keypad.  
  
"I would suggest that only one of you expose yourself to the toxins, if possible. Even with both of your... _unique_ genetics, it would not be wise to risk both of you for something a single man could do. I will secure a closed-course path between here and one of the lab's emergency chambers if one of you will go ahead to prepare the necessary equipment. I believe he has just stopped breathing."  
  
Steve looked at Bruce. The scientist was now showing a slight hint of green, which was the only sign he needed to make his decision.  
  
"You go," Steve directed, "you're the one who knows how to set everything up, and I have no idea what a phosgene even is."  
  
They had managed to get the inventor out and on a respirator right away, thanks to Bruce's quick thinking and Steve being impregnable to the poison. Tony never explained what he was doing with such hazardous materials, and surprisingly enough, he never bothered to apologize properly either. But a month or so later he saved both of them from being crushed by a falling chunk of building. They figured the debt was paid, at least until next time.  
  
The point was, Steve had some practice with Stark's behavioral patterns at this point. His observations were made easier due to the fact that the man seemed pretty oblivious towards about his more recent obsessions.  
  
Steve had had his suspicions ever since the god's first night in the tower, where Stark had let him sleep in his very own room rather than lock him up. Not that he wanted to see the god locked up, especially in the condition he was in. As time went on, things grew a little strange between the two of them, which lead him to investigate a little more carefully into the situation. The one thing that fueled his doubts to the point on confrontation was the scene he was met with that very morning.  
  
Pepper Potts had always been a good teacher in the ways of anything Tony Stark. Before she left the tower for good, Steve would often come to her to complain or ask what on earth was going on in the man's head.  
  
Did Tony accept anything from anyone, or was it just Steve?  
  
_It_ _'s everyone. Just hand it to me, i'll give it to him._  
  
Why does Tony do that thing with the noise?  
  
_You mean his music?_  
  
Since when did going out in one's underclothes constitute as proper attire to wear in public?  
  
_That's just Tony._  
  
Most of her answers boiled down to, "that's just Tony" in the end. He had his issues, like the apparent PTSD and other traumas he was still haunted by. Both things Steve could understand and relate to.   
  
So that morning, when Tony started actually _cooking breakfast_ and asked Loki for the frying pan, Steve knew something far out of the ordinary was going on.  
  
Because Loki had handed him the frying pan, and Stark _accepted_ it without a fuss. After that, it was a stick of butter, the salt shaker, a plate, even a knife. One of 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' accepting a knife from one of 'Earth's Most Accomplished Villains'.  
  
What was equally as strange, was the fact that Loki handed him every single thing he asked for without pause. Not that Stark ever asked for things, he demanded them. Even more reason to question their curious new relationship. Since when did Loki listen to anyone's demands? He couldn't even be bothered to say hello to his own brother, never mind do exactly what his ex-enemy/captor told him to do.  
  
What was Steve to do? He refused to tell Fury without knowing the full situation. Maybe he was wrong about the direction things were going. He had heard of the Stockholm Syndrome, but Loki didn't seem to be the type. Tony didn't seem to be the type to coddle someone who threw him out a window, either.  
  
Everyone had gotten used to Tony's random shows of affection towards them. He had a strange need to take care of Bruce ever since he managed to rope the scientist into staying in the tower with them. He was always trying to feed Clint, let Natasha use his credit cards, and even went as far as to pay for all the punching bags Steve went through daily. He seemed to enjoy pampering others, while ignoring his own well being.  
  
So, somehow, it was understandable that Stark would find reason to take care of the god. But Loki was not defenseless, and he certainly wasn't a friend or comrade. He was still an active threat to them all, still able to weld his magic, and clearly still mentally unstable. But since their only options seemed to be the tower, or a SHIELD holding cell, they were left with no choice.  
  
Steve had openly refused to let Fury take the god and lock him away in SHIELD. He never quite trusted the director again after he found those weapons, and Fury never quite apologized for lying them about them. He wouldn't put it past Fury to find a way to utilize Loki as some sort of weapon, after running tests on him like they tried with Dr. Banner.  
  
So, in the end, the vote was four to two, with the god's brother, Bruce, Steve, and of course Tony opting to save the god from what was sure to be a terrible fate. Tony also threw the director out of the tower and refused to tell them why. All they knew was Fury had crossed some line Stark had drawn in the sand, and Tony could hold a grudge for a long, long time. Clint and Natasha still protested when they could, but they ended up avoiding Loki as much as possible in the end.  
  
Then there was Tony, making breakfast with him like it was the most natural thing in the world. As though Loki couldn't kill him in the blink of an eye. As if Loki hadn't _tried_ to kill him not that long ago.  
  
He should have known they would form some sort of bond as soon as he found out what happened to the god while he was away. Steve was no stranger to Stark's painful history with torture and betrayal. Sharing past ordeals almost always brought people together, in the same way Natasha and he had bonded over certain war experiences that no one else could possibly understand. It brought you closer, until you grow to trust that person completely. Yes, Natasha was dangerous, but at least she fought on their side. Loki was dangerous and the only side he was on was his own.  
  
So, he had decided to try to talk to Tony about it. Mission, 'confront and obtain information' turned out to be a failure. He hadn't been trying to insinuate anything beyond an overly trustworthy bond and possibility of a case of Stockholm Syndrome, but Stark had to make a joke out of the entire thing. Then he turned nasty and overly protective of Loki, which in turn, only strengthened Steve's worries about their relationship. Stark would never talk to him, especially not now that he knew Steve was 'sticking his nose' into his business. He was going to have to find out more about Loki, before he could determine what exactly was going on, and how to fix this situation. For that, he needed to talk to Thor.  


* * *

  
  
Thor was at the point in his life where the branches of fate split into several difficult paths. It wasn't the first time, which only made the decision more critical.   
  
He had lost his brother twice now, each time he and his family suffered through it together and tried to stay strong. Only this time things _were_ different, Odin decided to give Loki a funeral and say goodbye to him forever.   
  
There had been too much blood, and not a single trace to be found of him. Even Heimdall could not lay eyes on the god after a year of searching by Thor's order. So, against Thor's feverish protests, Odin preformed a public funeral for Loki. It held a sense of finality that hurt Thor just as much as the lack of grief many of Asgard felt for the loss of his brother. It meant he was truly gone, not just the ending of a chapter, but the closing of the book.   
  
So when Loki was seen again, Thor had not dared to hope. He nearly wished it to be a lie, only to save himself the same ache as the last time he rediscovered his brother. If the circumstances were alike, Thor would not survive another vindictive confrontation with Loki.   
  
But no, it was almost the same Loki he had known before his second disappearance. Haunted, weak, and sad. As he had told his comrades, Loki had become _small_ .   
  
Thor had visited him only sparingly, unable to suffer the hateful words that fell like arrows from Loki's lips to pierce his heart. But on his second visit, Thor noticed his brother seemed to lack his usual bite. He also seemed to be losing his strength and was looking pale as death. On his third and final visit he asked why.   
  
  
"Bother, do not ignore my question," Thor admonished, when Loki did not answer. "Why do you look so unwell?"   
  
Loki lolled his head to the side and gave him a nasty smile. "We lack the royal groomers down in the ugly underbelly of Asgard. Really, you should know better than to comment on a pauper's attire."   
  
Thor furrowed his brow and tried to get a closer look at his brother. He had not even bothered with the usual glamour to hide behind, leaving the mess of his cell in plain sight. Something that was new to Thor, considering his brother's usual fastidious standards of living.   
  
"Loki, what has changed you so drastically in this past month?"   
  
"You do not care," Loki answered, "so why do you ask?"   
  
"I worry about you, is that so difficult to comprehend?"   
  
"Oh, _do_ stop," Loki drawled, closing his eyes, "there are no loving crowds of citizens to pander to here. Present company knows you're true intentions, and how little concern you have for me."   
  
Thor bristled at his inference. "Must you act as if my affections are such a trivial a thing?! You should be thankful anyone visits you here in your prison. You brought this upon yourself, do you truly feel you deserve anything less?"   
  
" _Thankful?!_ "

  
Loki laughed long and bitterly. Thor waited for it to end, his tempter fading from hot rage to cold disappointment. If Loki would not allow him concern, then he would not waste his time trying to win him back any longer. He should have never come.  
  
"I will not visit you again, I can promise you this," Thor said quietly, and turned around to leave.  
  
Just as he reached the stairs, he heard Loki's voice called out softly, "your company shall not be missed... _brother_..."  
  
  
He did not return to the cell again until Loki was gone. Not even as the first attacks ended with their mother's death, not even when Odin flew into a mindless rage. And now, he regretted that choice with all his heart. Because that had clearly been the moment that drove them truly apart. Loki had never pushed him away like this before, not of his own volition. The attack on Midgard's cities had been a different sort of rebellion, against Odin and the mad Titan. Now, Loki had cut him out completely, as if they had never grown together, or ever fought side by side as brothers once. Loki had buried those memories had sought for a connection in another.  
  
That man was Tony Stark, the man who had been Thor's shield brother in the battle to save the realm from his own brother. They had fought together a few times afterwards, but Thor had not spent much time on Earth after his mother's death and Loki's second disappearance. He had stayed in Asgard to help his father at first, but remained to bring change to his realm after he found out about Loki's poor treatment in the dungeons. His anger towards his father's hand in the matte had still not faded, even as they worked together to bring Asgard back to its former glory.  
  
But Thor's mortal friends had done well in his absence, which had filled him with pride every time they corresponded. And yet, he had heard of Stark's own sufferings from the captain. The mortal had lost a love, which was something Thor could understand after his own troubles with Lady Jane. They had still not reconciled properly, leaving things to, 'cool off', as she said.  
  
  
So, why, of all the mortal's in this realm... why had it been Tony Stark who his brother had chosen to bond with? The man acted like an pompous fool most of the time, hiding behind a wily smile. The only time Thor caught a glimpse of his true self was in battle, and he was not sure that the man behind the act was as decent as they liked to believe. He had a darkness in him that he had often seen reflected in his brother eyes behind a similar smile. Which meant Thor was going to have to do something to stop them furthering any bond between the two of them, if he wanted Loki to return to a more peaceful state.  
  
  
But, perhaps he knew too little of Stark to decide, which was something he should to remedy if he was to broach the subject with Loki. If his brother was going to change, if his brother _could_ change, he needed the right person by his side.  


* * *

  
  
"You're _kidding_ me..."   
  
  
"My humor is known to be more on the dry side, sir."   
  
"Dry and British," Tony muttered, only half paying attention to his AI. Loki was looking over his shoulder, sharing Tony's expression of disgust on his face.   
  
"Are they... drinking tea together?"   
  
"It's a little blond convention going on up there," Tony replied, peering closer at the screen. "I feared for this day, and now it has come. The big, dumb blonds are putting their heads together. We must stop them before they try to invent a perfume or something."   
  
Loki scoffed and leaned over the back of his chair, invading his personal space without a care. His full attention was on Thor and Steve on the screen.   
  
"What are they saying? Can we hear them?" he asked, glancing at him quickly. He finally seemed to notice the fact that he was half draped over Tony's shoulder, and shifted back again.   
  
"JARVIS, sound please."   
  
"If you had listened to my warning an hour ago, you would not have missed so much of it already, sir."   
  
"I was busy, and how was I supposed to know it was _important_ ."   
  
"You were _playing_ , sir."   
  
Tony hissed and waved a hand at the screen, "would you just—?!"   
  
"I assure you," came Thor's voice suddenly, "Loki can be a good man. It is Stark I worry about, since I know little about him."   
  
Tony muttered, 'rude' under his breath and cast a glance at Loki. The god's face had tensed as soon as he heard his brother's voice, making Tony wonder what part bothered him the most. Was it the 'my brother' or the 'he's a good boy' bit?   
  
"Stark is a good guy, underneath all the harsh words and extensive boundaries he sets around himself," Steve spoke calmly.   
  
"He does not make many friends with his moods."   
  
Tony scowled more. "I think I hate your brother a little more."   
  
Loki snickered and leaned once more on the back of the chair, watching the two people on screen with narrowed eyes. "I dislike both men. Perhaps... a little more now, too." Loki paused and began to chew on his lip. "I am curious as to what their conversation was about if they are just getting to the subject of us now."   
  
"They probably exchanged knitting patterns and talked about the weather. We can rewind it later, in case it's something important."   
  
"I fear the man of iron will be a poor influence on my brother's path to redemption," Thor rumbled, picking up his mug and sipping the tea as if he hadn't just said the most insulting thing in the world.   
  
Both of them tensed, and Tony automatically flipped of the screen.   
  
"Fuck you, you Ken Doll!" Tony shouted   
  
Loki hissed, "damn him and his ' _redemption_ '!"   
  
They spared each other a look that sent Tony into a small fit of snorting laughter.   
  
"Silence," Loki commanded, jabbing a finger into his shoulder, "I cannot hear what is being said over your nasal vociferation."   
  
"My _what_ now?"   
  
"Silence." _Jab_ .   
  
Tony huffed and went back to listening to his new two least-favorite people in the world right now.   
  
"I agree, Stark is the wrong person for Loki to be around and Loki is the wrong person for him. He's been through a lot these past few years, as you know, and Loki isn't exactly the best influence himself. I think the only reason he's really connecting with your brother is because he's bored and needs a new project."   
  
Thor looked pretty pissed off about that and sat in silence for a while. When he spoke again, his voice sounded guarded, " you believe our comrade is using my brother for... entertainment?"   
  
Steve looked a little nervous when he answered. "I don't mean that in a bad way. In fact, I think they're both reaching out to one anther because they think no one else is really offering."   
  
Loki growled in his ear, and it sent a shiver down his spine. A quick glance to his left made him frown.   
  
"I'm not using you, if that's what you're worried about," he said, watching the god's eyes darken with rage.   
  
"That is not—!" Loki stuttered a curse in a foreign language and stood up straight before running a hand through his hair. "That is not my reason for annoyance. Never mind my feelings on the matter, it is you they are both insulting."   
  
Tony shrugged. "I'm used to it. I've been listening to the same accusations since I graduated middle school." Tony twisted his chair around to face Loki. "Don't you _know_ ? I'm a horrible person. I could corrupt your poor, innocent soul!"   
  
Loki looked taken aback at his words and frowned. "I fail to see how that is possible, considering the things I have done. I am quite incorruptible, and I rather think that I am the one tainting you."   
  
"Let's just say we're corrupting each other, and call it even."   
  
"You are _not_ a horrible man," Loki said sternly, glaring down at him as if daring Tony to contradict his words.   
  
Of course, Tony lived to contradict.   
"You know next to nothing about me, so you're not exactly the best person to be the judge of that."   
  
"I have met horrible men, Anthony, and you are _nothing_ like them."   
  
The way he said it sounded so uncomfortable, and almost secretive, that Tony had to believe it. There was also the way he was looking at him that had him on edge. He felt accepted, and maybe a little cornered. Which, for the most bizarre reason, started to excite him.   
  
Tony continued to stare at Loki, tuning out the two blond's voices as he thought. There was something different about Loki, something that changed a few days ago. Maybe it was after he moved into his own room? Maybe Tony had been making it harder for the god to sleep when he was in the same room. Which wouldn't be a surprise, really. No one wants a stranger snoring at them from the chair next to the bed. Maybe they could have shared— _no_ , that was a dangerous path.   
  
Tony grimaced and glanced away, his cheeks already flushing slightly. This had happened a total of seven times since he his little slip.   
  
Maybe that was it. Maybe Loki was so uncomfortable with his joking offer to share the bed, he started treating Tony differently. But, then, wouldn't he be avoiding Tony? Not getting closer, leaning against him, touching his neck, looking directly into his eyes when they talked...   
  
It was almost as if he _liked_ the suggestion, which was probably just Tony's brain going down that dangerous path again.   
  
He blinked and turned his attention back to Loki, who was still standing in front of him, but was looking back at the screen. He had a sad sort of smile on his face and his tension had returned.   
  
"Don't worry about those two, they're harmless."   
  
Loki jumped at his voice and gave him an unimpressed look. "Hardly, they seem quite adept at making plans together behind our backs."   
  
"What do you mean? It's just a bunch of bitching," Tony replied with a sigh, turning back to the screen. The room was empty now, leaving a boring view of the dining room table.   
  
"Tell your ceiling servant to show you what they just transpired."   
  
"You hear that, ceiling servant?"   
  
"Yes, I shall rewind it, floor master."   
  
Tony grinned and watched Thor and Steve walk backwards and sit down again. They paused and the audio filled the room again.   
  
"So you agree?" Steve was asking, looking a little nervous. "Are you sure it's a good idea to go against Loki right now?"   
  
Thor nodded solemnly. "I agree that this is best for both of them."   
  
"Then, it's better to act now, before they grow too attached. I really do not want to fight either of them."   
  
Tony felt a prick of anger flair up, and he leaned forward in his chair.   
  
"Yes," Thor agreed one more, "it is time to separate them."   
  
Tony paused the recording and started blankly at the screen for a long while.   
  
  
"Oh..."   
  
"I warned you they would do something," came Loki's voice by his ear.   
  
" _Fuck_ .”   
  
"There is nothing we can do."   
  
Tony spun around, gritting his teeth. "Bullshit! I am not their fucking love-child. We're both adults here and I think we're... I think we're just _fine_ ."   
  
Loki was giving him that look again, and once more Tony couldn't quite place it. It was almost that look Pepper gave him when she saw him pick up a tumbler and take a drink. A sort of... pleading look.   
  
"Loki," he began, feeling nervous suddenly, "what do you want to do?"   
  
The look grew stronger, Loki's eyes growing bright and glassy. His expression was doing something to Tony's body that, again, he just couldn't explain. Luckily for him and his dignity, Loki started to look more confident and he slipped into a smirk Tony hadn't seen in a while.   
  
"I think I can stand a little more ' _bad influence_ '", the god said at last.   
  
"Good choice, now we just have one more problem to deal with."   
  
Loki raised an eyebrow just as a knock came from the glass door of his workshop.   
  
Tony looked up, and he narrowed his eyes at their guests. "Two blonds walk into a workshop... now we just need to figure out the _punch_ line."   
  


 


	8. Great Minds Think Alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the intervention, and the intervention's intervention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to boopmcrantypants for beta-ing for me. >w

  
Tony wanted nothing more than to send the lab into lock down to keep the nosey blonds out. But, he reminded himself that he was an adult, and adults talk instead of hiding away in an impregnable fortress.  
  
"Loki, please tell me you have some ideas for your half of the equation."  
  
"My half?"  
  
Tony pointed at the larger blond who was pressing himself against the glass like a kid, and arched an eyebrow at Loki. "I know how to handle his type, but if there are any secret buttons you know how to push, please push them."  
  
After a glance back at his bother, Loki got a look on his face that would have scared the shit out of Tony if it were directed at him. One of those nasty smirks you just know ends up with someone dead or bleeding on the ground.  
  
"I know _precisely_ how to deal with him."  
  
"Is it killing him? Because that wasn't an option."  
  
Loki huffed and leaned his body against the workbench, eyeing the men who were now banging on the glass. "I shan't kill him... _today_."  
  
It wasn't much of a promise, but if that's all Loki had to offer at the moment, who was he to argue? It was his brother, after all, who decided they needed to be 'broken up'. Tony mentally scoffed at the sheer audacity of it all. As if those old men knew what was good for them, two adults who didn't need lessons in current events, unlike _some_ people.  
  
  
"I really don't want to do this," he said more to himself than Loki.  
  
"Think of my position," the god replied bitterly, his eyes never leaving the door, "I am the one who continues to be haunted by my past after all these years. It is simply not..." he closed his mouth into a thin line, tightening his arms across his chest.  
  
"Not fair?" Tony asked, scooting his chair closer to look up at him. "How long were you gone, anyway? You never said."  
  
Loki's gaze grew distant, his body beginning to radiate an unexpected chill. Tony watched him quietly, wondering if maybe he had pushed too far this time. There was always one thing that was too much to handle. With him, it was the water. Even bottled water set him off for no logical reason, sending him into a full blown panic attack filled with memories of half drowning under a wet cloth. He got over it eventually, but sometimes it would catch him off guard, and suddenly his heart was racing with fear again. With fear came anger, which led to him snapping at one person or another. Technically all his bad moods lead back to that one experience. It was a nice excuse, for the most part.  
  
Tony ran a hand over his face, reminding himself that there was no way he could know what exact words would set the god off. It was a good as time as ever to remind himself just how much danger he was actually putting himself in every day. Playing with Loki, was playing with fire. Any one of the nights over the past few weeks could have ended with him dead in the chair, his arc reactor pulled from his chest as he slept.  
  
"I lost count."  
  
"What?" Tony shook his head and focused back on the dark-haired god.  
  
Loki spared him a blank look, apparently having taken the duration of Tony's confusion to school his features back to Loki-brand neutral. "I lost count of the years somewhere past thirty."  
  
"That's..." Tony began and realized there was nothing he could say about it that Loki didn't already know.

 

 _That's too long. That sucks. That's not really something you deserved, even after the shit you pulled._  
  
He got a wan smile before the god gestured to the door, directing Tony's attention back to the matter at hand.  
  
Thor was getting that look in his eye like he was ready to hammer his way through the glass, so Tony spun in his chair one more time and muttered, "JARVIS, let them in."  
  
  
The door opened, and both men stumbled in together, looking even more irritated from the wait.  
  
"Stark—"  
  
Tony interrupted with a raised hand, "Let me just stop you there. My name is Tony, and you do not have the luxury of switching to my last name to scold me. Because, I remind you again, you are _not_ my father, nor will you ever be."  
  
Steve closed his mouth with a snap, his eyes widening at him in surprise. Sometimes the things Tony said still seemed to catch the soldier off guard, like he could not believe the words actually came from his mouth. Thor was all but ignoring their interaction, instead listing towards Loki as if meaning to steal him away.  
  
"Brother," Loki said sweetly, nearly sending Tony out of his chair at the surgary sound of his voice, "what is it you wish to speak of?"  
  
Thor lost steam pretty quickly, sporting a half smile on his face while his brain, Tony could only assume, played Loki's sweet ' _brother_ ' on repeat.  
  
So far so good, apparently those blond jokes held some water after all.  
  
"Tony," Steve said slowly, "we need to talk about what is going on between you and... well, Loki."  
  
Maybe not, then. Steve Rogers, breaking out of the mold since 1942.  
  
"What about what's 'going on' between us? If it was the fire on the fourth floor, i'm pretty sure that was Clint."  
  
"We tried to talk to you about it before, but—"  
  
"No, you tried to _analyze_ me. I don't let people with a degree analyze me, what makes you think you're allowed to?"  
  
"Tony, this is—"  
  
"Also," Tony interrupted again, standing from his chair and stepping forward slowly, "what, exactly, do you think _is_ going on here? Do you have a name for it? Tell me, Rogers, what is my relationship with Loki?"  
  
"F-friends? I was thinking that it might be Stolkhom Syndrome..." Steve stopped talking when Tony narrowed his eyes. He must have made quite a sight, if the super soldier was backing down. Unfortunately, Tony's angry face didn't seem to have the same effect on Thor.  
  
"My friend, I only ask this of you because I am concerned for both of you," he began, subtly moving between Loki and Tony, "I wish to have Loki moved to my floor, so that we may work together in bringing him back to what he once was."  
  
" _Bringing me back_?" Loki hissed, sidestepping his brother to stand on Tony's left. "What do you plan on bring me back from, or _to_ for that matter. I have paid my debt in blood and sweat and screams. Just because you weren't there to watch does not make it any less real!"  
  
"Brother, please... you must understand my concern over this matter. It is not suffering I wish for you, but to find your place here... a place with less corruption."  
  
" _Corruption_?!" Tony snapped, with a half a mind to call his gauntlets to him. When he looked up at the big guy, his anger deflated a bit at the sight of those huge, worried puppy-dog eyes. Now that was just _unfair_ , no one should be able to out-pout Tony Stark.  
  
"Thor," he spoke softly, unconsciously shifting closer to Loki, "I won't hurt your brother. We aren't hurting anyone else, so what's the problem here?"  
  
"The problem? Tony, it's unhealthy. You're spending time with someone who tried to _murder_ you. Heck, you let him sleep in your bed. You don't find that to be unusual behavior?" Steve leaned forward, doing his best to sound diplomatic, but all Tony could hear was another condescending father figure speech. Maybe he was overreacting a bit, but being told that you're a 'bad man' by one team mate to another tends to rub you in the wrong way.  
  
"No? Clint is the one stalking and trying to murder him. Where else could he sleep? Besides, it's not like i'm sharing the bed with him."  
  
"Where do you sleep, then?" Thor asked, looking between Tony and Loki in confusion.  
  
"The chair, Big Red. Where the hell did you think I slept? I'm not playing little spoon with someone who just got back from an intergalactic torture cruise trip."  
  
"But you would if he hadn't?" Steve interjected, giving him a pointed look.  
  
"I, _what_..." He paused and looked at Loki, not sure who was going to be insulted more if he flat out said 'no'. Would Thor pummel him because he thought himself too good for his brother, or would Loki zap him right there for the same reasons. The only other option was to tell the truth, which actually wasn't an option because when he thought about it, the answer was nowhere in the vicinity of a 'no'.  
  
"Okay so maybe I'm closer to Loki than you expected," he blurted out, facing the blonds once again, "That doesn't make me or him a bad influence. For one thing, we're adults who make our own decisions, no matter how often   _both of you_ seem to forget that. For another thing, I highly doubt   _anyone_   can influence this guy, I mean, have you met him? He's like the immovable grouch that lives on our couch. Or was that Clint?"  


“I am _not!_ ” Loki shot an elbow directly into his ribs, miscalculating his godly strength and knocking him backwards. Definitely a miscalculation, not any sign that Tony should start working out again.  
  
He tried to stop himself from falling by grabbing Loki's offending arm, which, in turn, ended up pulling the god over with him. Tony had a second to observe Loki's startled face above his before his head struck the lab floor with a nasty crack.  


* * *

  
  
The sound reverberated around the room in a way only something horrible could.  
  
For a single moment, Loki had thought they could win this argument and let things stay as they were. Because, for the first time in a long while, he was feeling marginally better. Some of it was his newfound affection for Stark, the rest was just... _Stark_. Anthony had a way of fixing things you did not know were broken, even without his tools. Fixing things was just what he had been doing before Loki went and ruined everything, as usual.  
  
"Tony?!" Steve shouted, carelessly pushing Loki to the side, ignoring the startled noise Loki let out as the captain's hands made contact with his body. Loki nearly threw himself across the room to get away from the feeling the man's touch gave him. Cold, disgusting, _wrong_. Why did it feel so wrong?  
  
Then, Thor was by his side, muttering some nonsense about accidents and guilt. But it was meaningless, everything was meaningless.

 

 _Why wasn't Anthony getting up?_  
  
Steve lifted the inventor's head from the floor gingerly, exposing a small pool of blood that grew larger as he moved Tony's head. Loki watched, with detached fascination, the way Stark's hair grew dark and sticky.  
  
The captain was looking at him now with accusatory eyes. He was yelling, "What did you do?!" over and over again.  
  
Loki nearly smiled at his protectiveness over a man who had spent the past ten minutes insulting him in one way or another. But, Loki supposed, that was the mortal's way. Love beyond all measure, wasn't it?  
  
The captain was yelling something else that he could not understand, and Thor's hands closed around Loki's shoulders like a shroud.  
  
"It was an accident," Thor assured, pulling Loki up from the floor, "But perhaps this was the sign we needed..."  
  
There was a whispering in Loki's ear that sounded suspiciously like Stark's voice. Telling him, 'No, that wasn't a sign of _anything_. We're happy and not hurting anybody. What's so wrong about that?'  
  
But the bloodied floor spoke otherwise, and Loki closed his eyes on the scene. As always, the Room greeted him behind his eyelids, and for once Loki almost welcomed it.  
  
 _Good, punish me for this._

_I went beyond my limits, allowing myself too much. I am not allowed to be greedy like this, I'm not allowed to forget the monster that I am._

_Drag my mistakes back into the light and remind me why I'm not allowed to love._  
  
He did not open his eyes again until he felt a bed under his body. The room was dark, quiet, and smelled like absolutely nothing. It felt fake and empty.  
  
"Thor," he croaked, trying to sit up even as his bother pushed him back down, "Thor this is wrong, where am I?"  
  
"You are in a room I have no use for on my floor, brother. Sleep now, and we shall speak about your accommodations when you awaken."  
  
"No, Thor..." Loki tried again, his fingers desperately clawing at his bother's heavy arms, "this is not my room. I cannot..."  
  
"Sleep," Thor said quietly, his voice touched with concern, "all will be well in the morning light."  
  
Loki twisted his head and tried to see the thunderer's expression. It was far too dark, and Loki stilled in realization.  
  
It was the Room, just the Room. The dark one, where his mind played the most tricks and where he often fell for delusions of comfort. There was nowhere else that felt so foreign to him.  
  
No, that was wrong. Because Thor had never brought him comfort in his delusions. Thor was the forceful voice that told him he must survive, or he was weak. Thor's voice was the one that got him through the pain of the Small room. Not like this, this was not right. The room was not right, nothing smelled like damp, or rot, or...  
  
"Anthony, is he...?" Loki asked, not daring to finish his sentence.  
  
Loki waited through a heavy pause, holding his breath for an answer he dreaded.  
  
"He should be fine, brother. _Please_ , do not think of him any longer. It will do you no good."  
  
"No good," Loki repeated, and for once he agreed with his brother. He had brought the man nothing but trouble. Broke his home, then his body. Brought tension to his relationships, and forced him to take sides.  
  
Had he said they were happy? No, Anthony and he were not happy.  
  
Illusions, again. Just illusions of comfort, nothing more.  
  
"No good," he said again, and closed his eyes.  


* * *

  
  
Loki was standing above the others, contemplating his next move while he spun his cane absentmindedly.  
He knew what he needed, and the man was right there in the middle of all the commotion, ready to be hunted. Women tittered and babbled, the men whispering with scorn for one another, while the music sliced through the conversation with every stroke of the bow.  
  
Humans, disparaging creatures with so few redeeming qualities. Although, perhaps their disposability was one good trait, or perhaps their infinite well of ignorance.  
  
Loki smiled and spun his cane one more time before launching himself down the stairs to the tempo of the strings. It was pleasant music, for his work.  
  
When he hit the first mortal, screams and the sound of shattered glass filled the air, signaling the end of his orchestra. Hi prey was soon writhing below him to the sounds of his own eye being destroyed inside the socket. Loki looked up from the mortal and watched with a leer as the others scattered.  
  
Screams were never very pleasant on the ears, especially not females. Disgusting things, mouths open so wide to make such a high pitched sound. Loki wanted to strangle it out of them, make them choke on it.  
  
For the first time since he escaped the void, he wanted silence. He almost wished it back, the sort of silence that pressed on your ears and made you weep. But the void came with other things, things that gave him a fever for the cube. Things that fed him a _religion_ and sent him on his way to Midgard, to kill, to play, to claim it for his own.  
  
So, Loki had to silence those screams himself. He was their ruler, after all.  
  
For almost a moment, the only sound was his own voice, and it sounded good ringing over the crowd of cowering mortals. It was beautiful, the way they listened, _actually_ listened to him. Their ears straining for every word, lest they miss the important one and die for their mistake.  
  
Loki wanted to laugh at it all. This was what he wanted, this power that always eluded him. Presence. A voice strong enough to be heard, not ignored or shunned. A legion of people who believed what he said, even if it were out of fear.  
  
Then, there was a man. An insignificant man, who stood up and told a _lie_.  
  
Loki would have to kill him.  
  
His hand was stayed by another obnoxious man who alluded to things Loki could not comprehend. It was senseless babble, another feckless trait of mortals. Why was he wasting his breath on banter, while he could be focused on fighting? Loki could only imagine how much potential the mortal could have if he learned to silence his mouth and quicken his feet. For he was impressive, by human standards.  
  
Now Loki was getting distracted, letting his thoughts wander dangerously while the fight still waged on. Another distraction, a flying vehicle, noisily hovered overhead. They were driving his fearful herd away, and Loki felt the first chills of anger roil through his body.  
  
Then, there was music. Then, a flash of metal. Then  
  
 _Anthony_.  


* * *

  
  
He woke up with the taste of cotton in his mouth, his tongue was heavy and dry, and _god_ what had he been drinking?  
  
Tony groaned, rolled over, and felt bile rise up his throat. His eyes snapped open, his body already jerking to the side to heave the mostly-empty contents of his stomach out onto the floor.  
  
Someone was saying something and rubbing his shoulders like it would help. It didn't. In fact, the rocking motion was making him ready to heave another liter of stomach lining onto the floor.  
  
"Whoever... stop... _please_ ," he begged, hanging his head off the side of the bed. He hoped, beyond all hope, that this was not his room. Considering his luck as of late, it probably was. Great.  
  
"Wha' happened?" He managed after clearing his throat.  
  
"You hit your head," came a familiar blond's voice. As soon as Tony recognized it, anger flared up.  
  
"Where's Loki?!" Tony barked, twisting around to face a very startled captain. Unfortunately, the movement caught Tony by surprise as well, and sent him reeling back over onto the bed.  
  
"Tony, just lay down, okay? You might have done more damage than we thought."  
  
"I'm _fine_ ," Tony snapped, but stayed down. "Now tell me what happened after I bonked my head."  
  
"Nothing happened," Steve assured him, sitting down on the other side of the bed, "I brought you up here and had JARVIS give you a quick scan before we cleaned and bandaged you up. He said you needed to be awake to do—"  
  
"I will only ask you this one more time before I hold you down and vomit on you. Where. Is. Loki?"  
  
Steve closed his mouth into a thin line and stared him down. If Tony had more energy, he would punch the bastard in the face at least once. Maybe twice.  
  
"That's it, hold still you little puke-bucket," Tony warned, pulling himself up from his pillows and leaning towards the solider.  
  
Steve flailed a little, pushing him back down and jumping up at almost the same time. Tony flashed a small grin of victory and settled back into his pillows to sulk.  
  
"JARVIS, where's Lokes?"  
  
"I believe he is asleep in the second bedroom on Mr. Odinson's floor, sir."  
  
" _Lokes_?" Steve muttered, staring down at Tony like he just sprouted a tail.  
  
"He's actually asleep?" Tony asked the AI, completely ignoring Steve, "give me his vitals on-screen."  
  
"Of course, sir. They do seen to be accelerated."  
  
Tony lifted himself onto his elbows, squinting at the screen hovering between the captain and himself. If he was reading it right, Loki's heart was playing a pizzicato. Which was not healthy for a runner, never mind someone who was sleeping.  
  
"Steve," he said slowly, "I need to get down there."  
  
"Tony, no. This is _exactly_ why we separated you two. You do not _need_ to do anything for Loki, he has Thor watching over him."  
  
"Steve, if I don't get down there, he's going to—"  
  
"He'll be fine," Steve interrupted.  
  
Tony lunged forward, yanking Steve's head down by the collar of his shirt. "Rogers, you may think I'm all empty threats, but so help me... If Loki dies because you're too fucking patriotic to allow a broken man a little freedom, I'm going to do things to you you've never even _heard_ of."  
  
The man stared at him for a long moment, not moving an inch from the uncomfortable position he was in. Steve opened and closed his mouth twice before finally mumbling, "Why is this so important to you?"  
  
"Because it _is_ , and I really don't give a shit if you think that's wrong."  
  
"Fine, Tony, fine," Steve relented, jerking his body out from his grip. He looked one part pissed-as-fuck, one part miserable-as-fuck, and one part confused-as-hell. Just the way Tony liked him.  
  
"Good, now carry me."  
  
The dirty look fueled Tony's good mood all the way down three floors to Thor's rooms. Once there, it was harder to pretend things were okay. The entire floor oozed a sort of gloom that called for a good dusting and maybe a priest.  
  
"Fucking hell, I know I said you could do what you want to your floor, but what is this called? 'Viking Goth'?"  
  
"Tony..." Steve warned, approaching the closest room to peer inside. It was almost empty, with the exception of a pile of furs and a wide, scorched era on the floor. "Alright, maybe you should talk to him. At least about lighting fires inside."  
  
"'Goth Arsonist Viking'. It just keeps getting better," Tony grumbled, leaning out of Steve's arms to look down the hall. "Come on, this way. Onward, Steve steed."  
  
"Weren't you concerned, all but a minute ago?"  
  
"I swallow my fear with a smile. Shut up and find Loki."  
  
Steve's expression grew flat with exhaustion as he jogged down the hall, only pausing for a moment to pop into the rooms they passed. At the second to the last door, they hit the jackpot. Thor, who had been sitting vigil over Loki as he slept, jumped from his stool ready to attack.  
  
"Whoa! Easy, buddy. It's just us," Tony called out.  
  
Thor stilled and looked them up in down in confusion. "Son of Stark, friend Rogers... why are you here?"  
  
"To fix the mess you two made,” Tony snapped out with a forced cheerfulness. He flailed his way out of Steve's arms, dropping to the floor with a small wince. He stopped, jabbed a finger in the soldiers face, and said, "S _tay._ You've done your part."  
  
Thor hovered, glancing between the two, looking for answers. Tony tried to shove him aside, but ended up shoving himself off of Thor and onto the bed. Lighter object, meet heavier object. As if his head wasn't killing enough, already.  
  
"Stark, please leave him be. He needs his rest," Thor said, taking a single step forward in warning.  
  
Tony cast a glare over his shoulder. It was strong enough, he hoped, to melt steel. He could feel the anger radiating from his body, heating his cheeks and flaring up in his stomach. He hadn't been this pissed since Pepper left. Not since he heard her say things no one should say to a lover. Not to   _anyone_ , for that matter. He hadn't gotten angry at the time, though. He held onto it, let her go with a smile, and let it out later.  
  
Apparently destroying a room and laughing about it was a bad thing. He felt better afterwards, so he didn't really see what the fuss was all about. It was his room, after all.  
  
But now, now he wanted to let it all out. No forgiving words, no self deprecation, no more Tony Stark trademark smile. He glared, and he put his heart into it.  
  
" _Enough_ interventions, I think. A blind man could see something is wrong with your brother. Are you _blind_ , Thor?"  
  
Thor moved to answer, his usual almost-cute ignorance grating Tony's nerves all the more.  
  
"That was rhetorical, which means I _didn't_ want an answer, I just wanted to make an ass out of you."  
  
"Tony," Steve breathed, folding his arms over his chest. He looked smaller to Tony suddenly, but maybe that was just Tony's anger talking. He felt huge, powerful, overflowing with rage. He could take on anything right now.  
  
"Both of you can stop fucking talking, now. A lot of good it's done everyone so far, _talking_..." He trailed off and turned at last to look at Loki.  
  
  
He was pale, eyes half lidded as they twitched from whatever his mind was projecting. Tony knew this was the same situation as last time, if not worse. So, he slowly lowered himself down, laying on his side to face Loki. On closer inspection, he found the god's lips moving constantly in either prayer or song. Tony had a feeling it was the latter.  
  
"' _I'm gonna take you down_ _  
_ _Down down down..._ " He began to sing, shifting closer to Loki and watching carefully for any signs of life. The eyes fluttered closed almost instantly, so Tony checked his pulse. It was still way too fast for comfort.

 

Tony continued on with his fingers pressed against Loki's neck.  
  
" _So don't you fool around..._ _  
_ _I'm gonna pull it pull it..._ _  
_ _Pull the_ —"  
  
Loki's eyes snapped open at the same time a scream burst forth from him. Tony instantly wrapped his arms around him, pulling Loki's head right up against his chest. The screaming stuttered to a stop and started again almost immediately.  
  
"Loki... Loki, it's okay. It's _okay_. You're fine," Tony muttered soothingly, running a hand through the god's hair. "You're here, see the light? It's not that room."  
  
The screams dulled into a few more keening cries before they stopped all together. The only sounds in the room now were Tony's constant quiet babbling and Loki's panting breaths.  
  
"You okay?" He asked at last, still holding the god's head to his chest. He could feel the warmth through his shirt, giving him for more comfort than he deserved right now. This wasn't about him, this was about Loki.  
  
"Anthony..."  
  
"Yep, it's me. The human glow stick, here to rescue you."  
  
"... thank you."  
  
Tony stilled the hand that was still combing through Loki's hair, and waited for his heart to start beating again. He decided he didn't need it to, to respond.  
  
"You're welcome,” he said before noticing the damp that was starting to seep through his shirt. Loki was crying. “Hey, shh... it's _okay,_ " Tony promised before glancing over at the other two and pulling Loki up with him into a sitting position.  
  
"I'm taking him back to where he can sleep," he said, looking Steve in the eye, "Okay?"  
  
Steve swallowed something that might have been pride, and answered quietly, "Okay... _okay_ , Tony."  
  
"Thor?" He asked, his expression making it perfectly clear he wasn't asking.  
  
"Yes, I... I agree with this choice."  
  
"Okay then," Tony said, pulling Loki up to his feet, "can you walk yet, Lokes?"  
  
The god nodded, keeping his face hidden behind his hair to hide either shame or pain. Either one wasn't right, or fair. Tony scowled at his pent up anger, and told it to cool off as the elevator took them up to the penthouse. Vengeance was a dish best served cold, or some shit like that. For now, he had to deal with Loki, fix whatever damage those idiots did, and find some goddamn aspirin.  
  
Meanwhile, he was going to think. Because something was itching at the back of his mind again, and it stemmed from the song. Or maybe it was just the memory of singing it on their previous elevator rides. Or maybe it was because of the person he sang it _for_.  
  
Loki leaned a little heavier against him, and he wrapped an arm around the god's waist for support. If anyone saw them right now, the newspapers would be full of scandal. Then again, Tony really didn't _care_ what people thought of them anymore.  
  
When the captain asked him why he cared so much, he answered 'because'. He used to like to give long winded responses, to brag or talk down to the lesser mortals. But lately, 'because' seemed to be his go-to reply for anything about Loki, and anything brought to question about his relationship to him. 'Because' was not an answer for anyone, but most of all, it was a lie to himself.  
  
 _Because_ he knew why he cared.  
  
Because he...  
  
"Shit."  
  
"Mmh?" Loki mumbled, his head falling against Tony's shoulder.  
  
Tony looked at the top of his head before brushing his fingers through the soft, black hair again.  
  
"Nothing, Loki. Everything's gonna be okay."  
  
  



	9. Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki doesn't want much, not after being burned far too many times. But just this, just this one thing.
> 
> Surely, he was allowed just this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- So I wrote most of this while I was sick and had a fever. I'm sorry if it makes no sense.

 

 

He had not managed to remove himself from Stark's bed as of yet, and he didn't feel like leaving in the first place. The previous night ended with both of them face down in the sheets in varying states of unconsciousness. The next morning was more of the same lounging, but both of them were awake and talking. Stark had brought up Thor, which in turn lead to Rogers, which then led to them mocking the two blonds like children. It was foolish, but they were both exhausted and emotionally ruined enough for it to send them into fits of giggling. Loki also had a feeling that Stark was suffering from some mild brain damage. Some of his sentences ended abruptly, or went off on an entirely different direction than where they originated from. If it did not worry Loki so much, he would find it to be amusing.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Yes, for the fifth time, i'm alright," Anthony assured him, looking over his pillow at Loki with a scowl. "I know my own body, JARVIS scanned me and I want to shave off Thor's hair."

 

"You are doing it again," Loki pointed out, his arms stretched out towards Stark, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.

 

"I'm _fine_."

 

"If something happens, I will be blamed."

 

"Glad to know you're so concerned about me," Stark quipped and pressed his face into the pillow harder.

 

_I am deeply concerned,_ Loki though, smiling sadly to himself. 

 

He didn't quite trust his mouth to tell the lies he needed it to, not after last night. Lack of sleep and the strange abundance of comfort he felt right now left his walls down, and his heart vulnerable. But, at least he wasn't the only one. Several times now, Anthony had muttered strange things that made no sense out of context.

 

"Staring _shouldn't_ help."

 

"Too complicated, and then there's _Thor_."

 

" _Shit_."

 

The last one had been repeated often, Stark growing more flustered and upset until Loki would drag him back to the present by talking at him about random things.

 

"JARVIS, time?" Anthony called out suddenly, his head lifting from the pillow. Loki's lips curled into a smile, appreciating the way Stark's hair stood on end.

 

"It is two in the afternoon, the temperature is—"

 

"Don't care," Stark interrupted, "not planning on going outside, anyway."

 

_Outside._

 

Loki looked to the window and frowned. This was not the first time he had thought of it, but it was a cruel reminder to hear it from his captor's mouth.

 

_Outside._

 

He wanted to be there, feel the wind, see the veins of life that ran through Midgard, to simply breathe again. It was not the Room and he was not being tortured day in and day out, but was it too selfish to desire more? If he simply walked out of the tower, they would assume the worst and the fall-out afterwards would not be pleasant. They would never believe him, no matter how many times he would tell them that he would return to his glorified cell.

 

_But would I return, and what for? What is keeping me here without chains or wards? They have no means to hold me... by the Norns, I could leave at any moment... yet I stay._

 

_Why?_

 

Loki turned away from the window back to the man beside him. Stark was already snoring again, face down on his pillow with his arms stretched out towards Loki. With a huff of laughter, he reached over and slid his fingers over the back of Anthony's hand.

 

Was it truly because of him, though? What need did he have for attachments to anyone, much less an aging mortal. Affection, caring, sentiment. None of it had been with him through all those painful years alone, and as one said to him during his small stint in SHIELD's containment , "love is for children". He could survive without it before, and he had. But what of now? Now that he felt something of a sort of _fondness_ in his heart, what would happen to him if it were taken away?

 

Loki's smile saddened as he trailed his fingers up the scarred forearm. He had never really touched Anthony before, nothing intentional and gentle as this. It was a rare opportunity that he would not miss. Loki traced the muscles of the upper arm before him and leaned closer, eyes following fingers as the found the dip of his collar bone. The rest disappeared into the pillow, so Loki made his way back to the hands. Those poor, abused hands of his, covered in scars and burns. At some point, several of his nails had grown back poorly on one hand, clearly having been removed at some point. Loki frowned, trying to remember what the archer had told him of Stark all those years ago. It had not been much, since their pasts had not mattered to him at the time. Strengths and weakness, yes, but their personal history meant nothing.

 

How could he ever seek to discover more about the man, when Anthony never spoke of himself in anything more than passing comments? The brief mention of his suffering had been enough to gain an ounce of Loki's trust at the time of his arrival, but now he craved further knowledge for other reasons. What had happened to this fierce man to give him such scars like the light in his chest. He still did not know what that truly was, or how it made him immune to the scepter. The list of things he did not understand, but wished to, seemed only to grow longer.

 

But, now that Loki was looking closer at the man's body, he noticed a lot of the scars held the familiar signature of a well executed torture. A twisted patch of shiny skin on his arm, clearly from hot metal applied to the skin with cruel purpose. Small lines that went under his nails that had not been removed, possibly from sharp objects being driven under them time and time again. There were knuckles that looked lumpy, crushed at some point and never set properly, thin white scars down his palm, and star shaped burns that dotted the soft side of his forearms.

 

 

These were hands of a man who had struggled, and fought tooth and nail. With a painful sigh, Loki turned one over to inspect the palm, which was much wider than his and fascinatingly rough against his smooth skin. Anthony let out a loud snort and Loki froze in his ventures, both hands still wrapped around the man's limb. Luckily for Loki, Anthony simply rolled over to face him, and started snoring again.

 

He grinned at the new territory spread out before him, his fingers ghosting over the Anthony's face carefully. The man was not classically handsome, but there was something beautiful about him. Vain enough to trim his beard to perfection, but so many signs of self abuse across his body. Wounds that could have easily been avoided, dark circles that were never absent.

 

Loki's thumb brushed against his lip, causing Anthony to let out a softer sound than a snore and press into the touch. Loki stiffened, all his attention now directed to those lips. Wide lips, dusty pink, and possibly the smoothest part of the man's body. They parted a little more when Loki brushed his finger across the lower lip again. His breathe caught is his chest, eyes widening with fascination. He wanted to feel those lips, to taste them. He needed to, and the need was so sudden and powerful it almost hurt.

 

He _needed_ to kiss this man.

 

But, that would change everything. That would be admitting to something he could not bring himself to admit, and he would truly be taking too much if he did. He had already faced one punishment for reaching beyond his means, he would not be burned again, no matter what the prize.

 

He simply craved possession of Anthony, something he had already been unconsciously trying to gain since he arrived. No matter how he tried to ignore it, in the end, he knew what he was doing and it was wrong of him. But it was also the only thing he had wanted wanted in many, many years. Just this, just Anthony, and cooking together, constructing devices in his lab, the silences, the conversation, and sleep, sweet sleep. It was not too much to ask, was it?

 

Surely, he was allowed just this.

 

He brushed his finger across one more time and decided to take what he wanted, no matter the consequences.

 

* * *

 

Loki tried to complete an analysts of Anthony's lips. The texture, warmth, dryness even, but somewhere along the way his mind simply stopped responding. It was not a deep kiss, rather chaise and the other was still fast asleep, but it ceased all of his mind's normal activity and focused instead of the feelings of his heart.

 

His heart, which was now beating at a painful pace, was telling him that he was in trouble. Because this was a small desire, a simple thing to take, and it mattered more than anything in the Nine Realms.

 

He was so lost in the feeling, he did not noticed the way the lips started moved against his, or even the hand that had just brushed through his hair. He was so caught up, he did not hear the needy sounds coming from either one of them. Loki did not even notice when the kiss deepened, and a wave of heat washed over his body. In fact, the only reason he noticed anything at all, was when a husky voice growled, "Loki..."

 

His eyes snapped open, and was met with the sight of a startled, half awake man. Anthony was flushed all the way from his neck to his eyebrows, his lips dark red from the kiss, and his eyes comically wide.

 

"I... oh..." Loki stumbled, begging his mind to catch up, to find the right words. He needed the right words, for one wrong word could ruin everything. "My apologies, I should—"

 

He was stopped by the force of those lips against his again, and words slipped his mind once more. This time, Anthony was doing all the work, pushing Loki's mouth open wider and sliding a rough palm along his cheek. Loki knew the very moment he was sucked in, the very second he became convinced that this was perfect and everything was going to be alright.

 

One moment they were simply kissing, the next they were tumbling over one another, each pushing their way to the top. Anthony laughed when Loki managed to pin him down, and their eyes met.

 

"I'm dreaming, right? You're going to turn into a camel or something, then I'll be back in the desert, dying all over again."

 

Loki furrowed his brow and leaned closer to his face as he spoke, "I am no dream, lest you be my dream. In which case, I rather prefer this to my usual nightmares."

 

"You won't turn into a camel?"

 

"If I knew what that was, I still would not turn into it."

 

"Good," Anthony purred,"I'd hate to think i'm kissing a camel," and leaned up to claim Loki's lips hungrily. They both struggled to keep in contact for as long as possible, breaking only in short bursts to gasp for air before diving back in again. It wasn't until tongues found each other and a callused hand crept its way under his shirt that Loki pulled back.

 

Of all the outcomes he had speculated on, this had not been one of them. He imagined Anthony pushing him away gently, him screaming in rage, and even more violent denials. Nothing even close to this had passed his mind, and now that he was here, he was at a loss.

 

"Anthony, I do not... is this not precisely what those two were fretting over?"

 

"Was it? I thought it was more along the lines of," his voice rose into a whine, "'Tony is _horrible_ , Tony is manipulating Loki with his _evil science_... Tony is being manipulated by _evil magic_.'"

 

Loki huffed and rolled off of the man, curling on his side to face Anthony with a bemused smile.

"I believe we have both established that neither seem to be the case. But are you, in fact, wooing me with your evil science?"

 

"Probably," Anthony admitted, "yes."

 

"Good, I find that I enjoy it. It takes my mind off... other things."

 

"You enjoy the sciences?" Stark quirked an eyebrow. "Lokes, you haven't even seen the good stuff yet."

 

Loki chuckled and fell silent as his body began to relax again, finding more pleasure in simply looking than exchanging words. Anthony, however, never did stop talking.

 

"So, this," he began carefully, "this thing between us, this is..."

 

"A secret."

 

"A secret... yeah, I guess it has to be." Stark's smile faded a little when he reached out to touch Loki's cheek. "But what is this? I mean one second i'm wondering if I've gone insane, and the next we've both gone insane and—"

 

"Anthony, i'm rather sure we have gone insane long ago, why question it now?"

 

"Because I don't want to get _hurt_."

 

Loki's eyes widened at the brutal honesty in his voice, something he had heard only once before. Stark's mask was down completely, and he was looking at Loki with an expression the god could not interpret. Anthony's abused lips were tight, half smiling in a way that could easily turn into a grimace. His pupils were so wide, hardly any of his usual golden brown showing.

 

He was scared. He was scared that he was putting a lot more on the line than he should. Loki nearly laughed at his fear, so ridiculous. He was the one who should be afraid, not Anthony. He was the one who would be punished for his desires, he had everything to lose.

 

But, no, Anthony did as well, Loki remembered. The trust of his teammates had already waned as time passed. They clearly did not respect his judgment, and they certainly did not think highly of Loki. No, Anthony was right to be afraid, he had everything to lose as well.

 

"I would not..." Loki began, and found he was unable to articulate just how he felt, without making promises he could not keep. "I would not harm you, not intentionally."

 

His fingers slid over the bandages wrapped around the inventor's head, his eyes never leaving Anthony's.

 

"No more throwing me out of windows?" Anthony joked, his rough voice betraying his true emotions.

 

Loki laughed and shook his head. "Why would I destroy my, what did you call it? My 'night lamp'."

 

Anthony huffed and finally turned those worried eyes away, nuzzling his face into the pillow. Loki could feel their sudden burst of energy fading already, sleep tickling at the back of his mind yet again. He pressed closer, his face fitting perfectly into the crook of Anthony's neck, just as it had all those times he had been comforted by him during his short stay here.

 

This, right here and now, this was all he wanted.

 

"Sleep well, Anthony."

 

The man mumbled something incoherent and a heavy arm flopped across Loki's hips, pulling him closer. Soft breath and the comforting heat of Anthony's body begged Loki to sleep as well. As he dozed off, he wondered how something so simple as comfort had become more precious to him than any power in the Nine Realms.

 

Surely, he was allowed _just_ this.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor let out a soft breath, his emotions in far more turmoil than he could express at the moment. He stared in silence for quite some time before carefully shutting Anthony's bedroom door and leaving them to their sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

"It's okay."

 

"No, surely, it is not."

 

"Please trust me, a little." Tony grumbled, pushing past Loki and looking down the hall. He froze, head halfway past the doorframe, before inching back in again and shutting the door. "Okay, maybe not. Why is he just standing there?"

 

Loki huffed and glared at the door as if he could see through it to the blond standing down at the end of the hall. "You presume that I understand him."

 

Tony leaned against the door and sighed. "Well, you _did_ grow up with him, I presume you might know why he's been standing at the end of our hall all morning."

 

Tony was about to say something like, 'he's your damn bother, deal with it,' when he realized that he said 'our hall'. Like they owned it together, suddenly. Was this 'their' room now, too? They had been sharing it for weeks now, but it had never been, well, _shared_. Did that make it their kitchen too, and what did that even mean? To do this, with the crazy god who attacked the very city he lived in, it was nuts. But, apparently it was already happening, and he was much too late to stop it.

He tsked and shook his head. Calling it 'theirs' like they simply moved in together, not like Loki smashed through his roof looking like a chunk of bloody meat.

 

Someone was going to come along and question his morals again, sooner than later. He had his money on Steve, but if the looming blond god at the end of the hall meant anything, maybe it wasn't going to be the solider.

 

"Anthony..."

 

Tony looked up, humming in question. Loki huffed and reached over, his long fingers pulling at the bandages around his head.

 

"You should have changed this yesterday. It could breed infection."

 

"It's fine, will you please stop fussing. You're worse than Steve sometimes." He paused and quickly added, "but a whole lot cuter."

 

Loki looked appalled and folded his arms across his chest as if deflecting the word. " _Cute_? I am no where near the realm of 'cute'. That word is reserved for small animals, ugly babies, and liars."

 

"Well good morning Mr. Cynical, and you can act cute, not be cute. Is that better?"

 

"I am not _cute_."

 

Tony snorted and gave up, realizing he was wasting his time arguing with a damn god whether or not he was adorable. Of all the mornings in his lifetime, this was probably the weirdest. Scratch that, definitely the weirdest. Especially considering they had spent the last hour making out and touching each other everywhere. No sex, which Tony wasn't sure was even a part of this thing with Loki, but they had definitely found some sensitive spots on one another.

 

"Can we address the current problem?" Loki asked, looking more and more annoyed. Someone needed his morning coffee, and probably some food by the looks of him. He looked as haggard and tired as he did when Tony brought him back to his room. Their room.

 

_Whatever._

 

"Okay, the facts...Thor has been standing there all morning, I think. Actually, how long _has_ he been there?"

 

JARVIS chimed in, sounding apologetic, "he has been at the end of the hall since 3:30 yesterday afternoon. He was at the entrance of the room before he left and retuned some time later to the exact spot that he is in now, sir."

 

Tony sputtered, "at the entrance... he was at the door?!"

 

"From 2:20 until 3:00."

 

Loki made a choking noise and looked at the door again with an odd expression as his arms tightened around his chest. Tony watched him fade back into that other version of himself, the scared, abused Loki that still screamed at night for fear of things Tony could not even imagine. He had the same expression as he did when Thor first took him back to Asgard, and just like then, he tried to hide his fear.

 

"Lokes..."

 

"It was supposed to be a secret," Loki bit out immediately, his eyes firmly on the door. "You have no idea what this means, what will happen to me now."

 

"Uh, yeah I do."

 

Loki turned this head to him with a quick, angry jerk. "Oh?" He drawled, "do tell me, how well you do you understand my place in this realm, in any of the Nine Realms?"

 

Tony pressed closer and pulled at Loki's tense arms. The god would not relent, so he simply pressed close and looked him in the eye.

 

"This is my tower, my rules. This also happens to be my world, well not mine per-say, but humans in general. This means i'm the one in control of this situation, next in line to you."

 

"You paid your price," he continued, finally managing to pull Loki's hands free and squeezing them in his own. "You did your penance or some shit like that. You deserve a break, you deserve to have... whatever this is. I mean, if you want it."

 

He swallowed the "if you want me," and tried to smile past the strange guilt he felt.

 

"I deserve nothing. I was meant to die." Loki tensed again and stopped talking, realizing he was saying too much. Tony wanted to ask who's words those were, but Loki would only let him in when he wanted to. There was no wheedling information out of this one.

 

"If someone told you that, they're full of shit and also a massive asshole. If you were meant to die, you'd be dead."

 

Loki barked out a sharp, humorless laugh and leaned into his arms muttering, "then perhaps I should be soon."

 

That hurt to hear, and Tony wasn't quite sure what to do with the bundle of emotions it stirred up in his chest. He should probably put a name to some of those, but that was harder to do than it sounded.

 

"Loki, you aren't going to die. At least, not anytime soon. I mean, you're immortal and you're safe here, so—"

 

"No where is safe for me, Anthony. They could come for me at any moment, and no one would be the wiser. I would simply be gone, and you and your team would assume the worst of me." He leaned back to look Tony in the eye. "You do not trust me as much as you beg of me to trust you."

 

"Hey, I wouldn't..." Tony trailed off and tried to think how he would feel of Loki did just up and disappear. God, that was complicated. "I guess I would worry, at first. Because you've stuck around here so far, not that you have any reason to, just putting that out there. Umm... but I have to admit, I'd have my doubts. But this isn't about my trust," he pushed Loki against the door gently and slid his hands up and down the god's sides. "Because I know you'll never trust me. But i'm going to stick by your side, and you can't tell me I haven't done exactly that so far."

 

"No," Loki whispered, his expression one of wonder. "No, I cannot deny that you have taken my side, as troublesome and difficult as it's been for you."

 

"Wait, did you say they could get you at anytime?" Tony's hands froze half way up the god's chest, mind racing to catch up. "They could come here?"

 

"Yes, I came to Midgard by way of them."

 

"I thought you escaped," Tony reminded doubtfully.

 

Loki's lips parted into the wide, manic grin Tony hadn't seen since the attack and it took all of his will power to not flinch back.

 

"Oh, I _escaped_ and made use of their technology."

 

"So how much of that," Tony gestured to his body, "was from your pleasant sounding escape, and how much was from your captors having fun?"

 

Loki pondered this for a moment, resting his head back against the door. "I really do not know, to be perfectly honest. It was all a blur in the end, and I happily elect for it to remain a blur."

 

Tony simply nodded, understanding almost too perfectly what it meant to leave some memories a blur. You can't quite forget them, but maybe you can smudge them out until they're no longer recognizable.

 

Loki changed the topic, asking, "I assume this means you have a plan to deal with Thor?"

 

"You have so much faith in me already," Tony said, flashing a cheerful grin before pulling the door open and nudging Loki out of the way. "I got this, if you want to stay here."

 

"And let you face and angry god alone?"

 

"I've done it before, if you recall."

 

"Ah yes," Loki sighed fondly, "the window shall never be forgotten."

 

Tony swacked at his arm and pulled the door all the way open. "I meant the other day, but thanks for reminding me. You owe me a window."

 

Loki huffed but went silent as Tony lead the way into the hall, where all the humor in the air was promptly sucked out by a very stiff looking Thor. The fist thing Tony noticed was his lack of hammer, which he took as a good sign. No hammering Tony into the floor without a hammer, right?

 

"TROPIC THUNDER!" Tony belted out, coming closer with his arms raised in praise. "How you doing? More importantly, what are you doing?"

Thor, for all his infinite tenseness, actually smiled as they approached."Stark, I am well. I had wished to speak to you both, and I worried you might escape to your workroom again."

 

"So you waited all night? I'm honored, really, but how about breakfast before we talk?"

 

Thor looked ready to argue, but Loki was having none of that and brushed right by both of them, heading directly for the kitchen. Tony glanced at Thor, shrugged, and scuttled after Loki to get some coffee.

 

They didn't do their usual morning routine, something he had happily gotten used to over the past few weeks.Tony had actually been eating something in the morning, a miracle. But today, they kept their chatter to a minim and avoided touching as much as possible. Both skipped breakfast, opting for nothing more than their usual morning drinks. Thor watched them in the sort of silence that leaked across the entire room, making even the smallest sound ring louder than usual. His presence alone was stifling, but the silence felt like a judgment.

 

"Thor," Tony called out, shuffling across the kitchen waving at the blond to follow him into the living room, "come on, in here."

 

The living room's atmosphere wasn't much better, and Loki wasn't helping it along. He parked himself behind Tony on the far side of the couch, in the farthest spot away from Thor as possible. Every time Thor tried to lean closer to see him, Loki let out a low hiss and pulled back behind him. It was childish, and if the thunderer didn't like he was ready to step on Tony, he would have found it cute.

 

"Yesterday, the captain and I expressed worry about your friendship," Thor began hesitantly, "but I did not know you two had become so close."

 

"Does it make you feel any better that we kind if of only got this close because of you guys messing around?"

 

Thor smiled weakly, but shook his head. His fingers plucked nervously at the sleeve of his tunic, the area already well worn from the habit. He looked tired, which was something Tony had only seen once before, back when Thor thought Loki was dead.

 

"I do not know how to express my feelings on the matter," Thor admitted to his hands.

 

"Happy? Sad? None of your business?"

 

Thor went from confused and worried to full on godly glare in less than a second. "He is my brother, and thus it is my business. He also is meant to follow the road to redemption, and I do not see how you will aid him in this."

 

"You intrusive oaf!" came a screech from behind Tony, startling him so much he nearly sent his coffee into his lap.

 

Then, Loki was rushing past Tony and looming over Thor, shaking hands clenched into fists at his side. "How dare you? How _dare_ you?! You do not, and have never, decided my path in life. You have still yet to even ask yourself if I desire your hollow 'redemption'."

Thor opened his mouth to argue back, but Loki continued on, his voice growing louder, "why should I seek to redeem myself by Odin's laws? I ask you again, Thor, what more does he wish from me? Should I cut my limbs away, or spend another fifty years locked away and forgotten? Should I offer him my _eye_?" He stepped closer, his hair nearly brushing Thor's forehead, and hissed, "tell me this, brother, why must I pay so much _more_ than I even have to offer?"

 

The air around him was shimmering, and Tony could smell the copper smell of a storm mixed with mint. Two angry gods colliding in his living room, he could sell tickets.

 

"Loki, I do not wish for more blood, and nor does our father."

 

"Your father, Thor. The king of your realm, not mine."

 

"Uh, hey," Tony interrupted, "not to break up the same argument you guys have probably been having for years, but isn't this off topic?"

 

Both Loki and Thor turned their glares to him, only Loki's softening when he met his eyes.

 

"Yes, this is about something else," he admitted, stepping back from his startled brother. "But it is intertwined, Anthony and my fate," he said to Thor.

 

"Why, Loki?"

 

Loki looked lost for words, his mouth parting several times before closing again. Tony was leaning forward in his seat, probably even more eager than Thor was to hear his answer. His heart was rushing in his ears so loudly, he worried that he might miss it.

 

"I... _need_ him," Loki spoke softly.

 

Now Tony's heart was racing so fast it was painful.

 

He was needed? Not just wanted, but needed? That probably shouldn't be news to him, the way the god had been relying on him so much these past few weeks. But then, Loki didn't say it like that, he was just there to soak up whatever Tony could give.

 

When was the last time someone needed him, he couldn't even remember. Pepper never needed him, she was always her own woman, always taking parts of him and not the whole. He couldn't condemn her for that, not when he knew he came with too much fucked up baggage, and who wanted a broken piece of machinery anyway?

 

But _needed_ , Loki needed him, even with all his flaws. That meant something, right?And his heart really needed to calm down soon, before he had a panic attack in front of them. Just the thought of that made his head ache, and it took him a few minutes to realize that they were talking again in a much calmer manner.

 

"Are you sure, then, that he will help you?" Thor was asking, looking hopeful for the first time since he arrived.

 

A huff of laughter escaped Loki and he looked back at Tony before replying, "can you not tell? He already has."

 

Tony flashed a grin, and hoped he wasn't blushing like some teenage girl. “See, i'm not such a bad influence after all.”

 

“I apologize for saying that, Stark. I simply worry for my brother, and I had not—“

 

“Forget it,” Tony stopped him, making a shooing motion with his hand. “More importantly, this _was_ supposed to be a secret, you know, for now.”

 

“For now?” Loki asked darkly.

 

“Your courtship is a secret?” Thor asked, just as darkly.

 

Tony gave them both a, “ _sure_ , not brothers at all,” look and lounged back into the couch. “'Secret' because I don't want Clint or Natasha to try cognitive recalibration on me and lock Loki up for luring me in with magic, and I _really_ don't want Captain Tight Ass sticking his nose in anymore.” He met Loki's eyes seriously and continued, “' For now', because I'm very possessive of my things, and I won't shy away from letting anyone know what's _mine_.”

 

Loki made an odd choking noise, and Thor looked torn between bursting out laughing, and hitting him for insinuating possession of his brother. Before the thunderer could comment, though, Loki was yanking Tony off the couch and pushing him out of the room, muttering a quick goodbye to Thor on their way out.

 

“Whoa, whoa, something I said?”

 

“Idiot!”

 

“Too much?”

 

“ _Idiot!_ ” Loki hissed, still pushing Tony along from behind.

 

“I'm sorry, okay? I didn't, hey!” Tony squawked, stumbling through the doorway to their room. “Are you really that upset about—“ he stopped when he saw Loki's face. It was bright red, even his nose blowing pink. His eyes were even scrunched up in distress. “oh... oooh, look at you, you're ember—”

 

Loki smashed their lips together harshly, successfully shutting him up and sending Tony reeling back into the wall. The god followed him, forcing his hands above his head and holding them there while his tongue began to invade Tony's mouth. It was sudden, and violent, but Tony was quick to respond, biting playfully at Loki's lips and laughing into the kiss.

 

“I belong to no one,” Loki growled.

 

“Too late” Tony responded, panting slightly and grinning as he met Loki's glare. “I've marked you.”

 

Loki arched an eyebrow, his grip on Tony's wrists tightening. “I see no markings.”

 

With a smirk, Tony strained forward to nuzzle into the god's neck, finding a spot he had claimed earlier and kissing the dark bruise he left there.

 

“ _Oh_...”Loki purred, his head falling back.

 

Tony's smile widened as Loki went limp under his touch, taking the moment to turn the tables and push the god back into his bed. Their bed.

 

“Mine,” he whispered, and proceeded to show Loki exactly what his place was in the Nine Realms.

 

Dozens of hot, passionate kisses, a lot of groping and rubbing, and twelve more hickeys later, Loki was fast asleep in his arms, looking completely content for the first time since he arrived. Tony had watched him doze off and continued to stare at him while his mind tried, at last, to put a name to some of those feelings.

 

He didn't know what this _thing_ with Loki was, yet, or if it was even going to be a _thing_ at all. But he did come to understand something as he watched the god sleep soundly, curled up in his arms like he'd always been there.

 

He needed Loki just as much.

 


	10. Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things, inevitably, fall apart.

  
  
He had been _so_ happy. Happier than he had been in many years, happier than he had been in some of his most fondest childhood memories. Because right here and now, he was free of the shadow hanging over him; living with no great expectations, or lack thereof. It was just Anthony, and Loki, and everything they expected from one other was already a part of them. Neither asked the other to change, they simply _existed_ together.  
  
He never had to tell Anthony to stop, or push him away because the mortal seemed to know when Loki needed silence. Or the times when he somehow understood when Loki couldn't bare to be touched. Or the times he knew when Loki needed to be touched, to be grounded in reality. It was as though they had known one another for years, rather than one short month.  
  
Nothing was perfect, it could never be with the two of them. Both still woke up screaming or crying some nights, and both would feel the same wave of embarrassment every time. Anthony would calm him with his voice, and if it was the mortal who woke screaming, Loki would sooth him instead. Things were not perfect, nothing ever was, but they were happy enough and that was something Loki had never thought he would feel again.  
  
Really, it was just so impossible that he had even stopped wondering if it was all a dream. He didn't care anymore, because dream or no, he would enjoy it until it ended. So, it made sense that everything would come to an end.  
  
Because this was Loki's life, after all.

* * *

  
  
  
"It is _not_ magic."  
  
"You have yet to explain how it is your science."  
  
"It's a loophole in physics, I can't explain it."  
  
"A loophole in your science, therefore: magic."  
  
"Bees are not magic!"  
  
Loki crossed his arms with an unimpressed look. "Until you prove to me, firstly, how they fly, and secondly, how they seemingly disappear in mid-air, I shall consider them magical creatures."  
  
"I'm not arguing with you over bees," Tony groused, mirroring Loki's crossed arms with his own.  
  
"Arguing?" Loki asked with a smirk, "hardy and argument, if you have no weight to your words."  
  
"Sometimes I want to smack you."  
  
"Consider it a shared sentiment."  
  
Pausing for a moment to look the god over, Tony uncrossed his arms and sauntered over to him. He knew better than to believe any of Loki's threats of violence. The god had yet to lash out once since he arrived, albeit, that might have originally had something to do with his road kill impersonation. Why he hadn’t since was one of those things Tony opted not to question, because it lead to further lines of questioning that he refused to touch. He also never acted on his threats, which was a little less surprising considering his 'issues with abuse'.  
  
So, with a tilt of his head, he declared, "I'll kiss you, instead."  
  
"Anthony..."  
  
"Yeah?" He asked, already on his toes, his arms wrapping around Loki's neck. No reaction, Loki just stared at him with those intense eyes. Tony almost pulled away, because it was one of the few expressions the god wore that he had yet been able to read.  
  
 _Danger, danger, do not touch?_ _  
_ _Kiss me right now or so help me?_  
  
"Nothing," Loki answered at last, some of the seriousness fading from his expression. "I believe you were providing me with a service?"  
  
Tony hummed, pressed his lips against Loki's, and allowed himself to get pulled out of reality. Somewhere, his body was telling him that there were arms circled around his waist and a body pressing flush against him. The entire effect was completed when Loki let out that little needy sound that Tony had discovered only recently after their kisses started to go from fast paced mouth fucking to slow dreamy mouth fucking. And speaking of dreamy, it was way too late to save Tony now, he was _gone_. Kissing Loki was like being sucked into a whole other world. It wasn't just that he was a good kisser—he was better than good—it wasn't even the haze of lust that fell over them every time their lips met, it was the surprising amount of comfort Tony felt when they got close. It was almost like trust, and that was something he promised himself he would never do. Not again, not after Pepper, and not with Loki.  
  
So he decided to call it something else, he just couldn't think of a name for it yet. Maybe 'relaxation', or some form of sexy meditation. Maybe he could—  
  
"Would you _please_ stop thinking so much?"  
  
Tony jumped a little, his eyes fluttering open. When had they stopped kissing?  
  
Loki's lips were still brushing against his, but his eyes were open and watching with a hint of concern. His brow furrowed more the longer Tony stared up at him like an idiot.  
  
"Sorry..." Tony rasped, his voice catching oddly in his throat, "just a lot on my mind."  
  
Loki huffed, and the breath against Tony's lips did something to him he never wanted to explain to a psychiatrist. "Bees, again? Really, Anthony, I thought my time was worth more than some flying insects. At the very least, think of something more complex."  
  
"I'll have you know that bees are very important, just not to me," Tony stated, bumping their noses together. "So, no, I wasn't thinking about fucking non-magical bees. I was thinking about you, SnowGlobe. Lo' and behold, something more complex."  
  
"What of me?" Loki asked quietly, his fingers now tracing small circles on Tony's back. He voice said he didn't care, but his eyes retained that sharpness to them that Tony had grown to understand as doubt, or worry. He had seen it a lot since Loki arrived in the tower and had assumed for a long time that the god was pissed, promptly blown him off one way or another, and then noticed how fucking sad Loki seemed after, and then did it again _anyway_. He really should have just asked, or talked about it, but Tony didn't do talks and, well, Loki sort of looked pissed all the time. Tony also didn't do godly confrontations with a man who slept in his bed every night. He got the feeling greater men had tried, and died. He liked living, maybe a little more so as of late.  
  
It was kind of alarming how good he was getting at recognizing Loki's expressions. Maybe it was because he was so much closer to his face these days, close enough to have his tongue down his throat. Tony snorted to himself, shook his head, and glanced away.  
  
 _Thinking too much, yeah, Loki wasn't half wrong about that._  
  
"About you...” he began hesitantly, “Aboouuut you, huh. Just random stuff, nothing Earth shattering," he lied. Some of those thoughts were pretty Earth shattering to him, not that he would ever tell Loki. Especially the whole epiphany he had before they started kissing five days ago. That whole possible 'like' with a capital 'L' thing that Tony's brain refused to touch since then.  
  
" _Random_ things about me," Loki repeated slowly, causing Tony to glance back into the danger zone of Loki's gaze. God damn, those things were so vivid green when he got serious. How was Loki even _real_?  
  
Maybe he should actually be concerned by the magic wielding god in his arms who currently looked a little more irate than usual.  
  
"Woah there Silver, don't give me that look. Nothing bad, I promise."  
  
"Yet you will not tell me, which begs to question what you are thinking of that is supposedly not 'bad'," Loki pointed out dryly.  
  
Tony hissed in irritation, feeling cornered, and blurted out, "I like kissing you, okay? I like it a lot, I like it so much I was thinking about it while doing it. I like how it feels, I l-like..."  
  
The look his admission earned him was well worth the self sacrifice of admitting he liked _anything_ about Loki and the growing embarrassment of saying the word 'like' five times. The gods eyes went wide, and a sort of half smile, half jaw-drop happened around the mouth area. Tony liked that part the best. Did he mention he had a fascination with Loki's mouth?  
  
"You like it..."Loki opened and closed his mouth a few times before trying again,"I... you confuse me, often."  
  
  
"People say that about me, often."  
  
Loki snorted delicately, and Tony felt the brush of cold fingers against his cheek. There was another expression, now, that Tony didn't recognize. He should probably make a Loki Face Diary, or something. This one was a sort of soft look, gentle eyes and a relaxed smile. It was honestly the first time Tony had ever seen the god look like that, so he had no reliable data to compare it to.  
  
What the hell was Loki thinking that made him look so... _happy_ , and was it too much to hope it was him that put that look on the god's face?

 

Probably. Stupid to hope, too. This wasn't— god forbid— _love_ , this was just two people making each other feel less insane. With kissing and groping. And maybe cooking, and science, and snuggling, and singing. The singing part was suddenly the least weird part of this not-a-relationship thing.  
  
He wondered, not for the first time, how mind blowing the sex was going to be. If sex was going to _be_. Shit, he really was thinking too much. He was going to ruin this thing, not-a-relationship thing. Something way more delicate than what he had with Pepper, and so much easier to fuck up.  
  
 _God, he really didn't want to fuck this up._  
  
"Sorry, I'm just an asshole with too much brain power to be good for him and a lot of baggage. Ignore my rambling," Tony mumbled with a hint of bitterness. That was a little _too_ close to Pepper's closing line when she left.  
  
Loki's hand curled under his chin, squeezing his jaw ever so slightly. If Tony had PTSD—he did, but who was counting— he would have had a small freak out at the familiarity of the grip. As it was, he reminded himself that there weren't any windows in the lab to be thrown out of, anyway.  
  
"That statement does not define you whatsoever," Loki hissed, searching Tony's face for something. He let that last word linger in the air for a moment before continuing in a much softer voice, "You are a controlled chaos... I like it."  
  
Tony's never ending stream of thoughts were rudely interrupted by that statement. Great, now Loki was throwing 'like' around, too? That sounded like a capital 'L' to him.  
  
"Is..."Tony cleared his throat, "is there such a thing as 'controlled chaos'? Isn't that kind of contradictory?"  
  
Loki let go of his chin, but not before brushing a thumb over Tony's lips, and really, Tony begged internally, _enough_ with the distractions already.  
  
"It is a _thing_ , yes. It is the difference between you and I. You have a darkness in you, just as I do. Chaos, madness... I've seen it in your eyes, I've seen some of it in your fights. But you control it, let it out in bursts of creativity or hyperactivity." He paused, looking hesitant to go on.  
  
"And?" Tony prompted, curious to know where this was going, and maybe a little unsure he was being complimented, or insulted. Was there a word for that? Insuplimented? Complisulted? He should write to Webster.  
  
"I envy you," Loki admitted in a small, pained voice, and the words hit Tony in the chest as though the god had screamed them.   
  
"M-me? Fuck no. I know you went through hell and back again, but you could do a _lot_ better than me. My life is no banquet of roses."  
  
Loki leaned closer, eyes boring into Tony's with a sincerity he rarely expressed. "Yes, which is precisely _why_ I envy you. You lived and loved through all your pains and trials. You bottled your vengeance, your anger, and crafted yourself a weapon from it. Then, what did you do?" He asked with a faint smile, "you used it to defend others. Anthony, you could have taken over this realm years ago, and instead you created, rather than destroyed. You did this, all the while unleashing that relentless chaos without losing yourself...." Loki breathed out and added in almost a whisper, "without taking the world down with you."  
  
Tony's mouth answered before his brain could stop it, "I took enough of it with me, already."  
  
Loki hummed in question, and curled his fingers against Tony's back like he was supporting Tony by his touch. Tony leaned into it, and there was that hint of trust again.  
  
"I did," Tony began again, "I was a warmonger, a death dealer, the Merchant of Death. Witty name, that. Merchant, meaning a person involved in trade or commerce, and Death... well, you know that one." Tony took a deep breath and kept going, because he really didn't have anything to lose, it's not like Loki could judge him, or would judge him. "I think 'chaos' is too romantic for me, I failed at even that. Hell, I couldn't even destroy myself properly."  
  
"You aimed to... end your life?"  
  
Tony shot him a look. "Have you _met_ me? I spent my entire life is aiming to end my life. I can't even remember a time when I wasn't full self deprecating thoughts and reckless behavior. I'm not even sure _why_ I save people, but it's probably just for my own self-satisfaction."  
  
"No, you are misunderstanding something, surely," Loki interjected, "Self sacrifice stems from making mistakes, which you have clearly done... and just as I have. But you and I separate there, in that moment when we were given a choice. You chose good—" Tony snorted loudly, "alright, decency?"  
  
"Better."  
  
"Some sense of justice, then. Revenge served without overstepping some sort of moral bounds. Where as I, I chose a savage revenge, the relentless sort that is purely selfish. I am not satisfied, even now. My anger will always burn for their slights, and I would pick and _pick_ away at their lives until they finally broke... and yet..." Loki trailed off, his voice saddening, "and yet, my hunger would never be slaked. I am, and always will be, a vengeful god."  
  
Tony thought about it, tried to think of how to word it without insulting him, or _complisulting_ him. "So doesn't this technically make you a controlled chaos, too?"  
  
"No, I just said—"  
  
Tony interrupted with a hand on loki's chest, "you just said you're a hungry, vengeful god. I got that part, I _understand_ that part. But where are you standing right now?"  
  
Loki gave him a look one would give a stupid child, and answered, "your workshop... the smithy."  
  
"Okay, for one thing, _never_ call it a smithy again, but otherwise, you're correct." Tony pushed the hand a little harder against his chest, as if confirming that he was solid. "You're standing here, snuggled up to man who fought you. You're in my home, you're in the metaphorical den of lions, and you're living right on the spot of your greatest failure."  
  
Loki bristled, hands snatching Tony's away from his chest before he stepped away. "You—!"  
  
"Loki!" Tony snapped over him, "you've been in my tower for a month now, and you're still fucking _here_! The building is still standing, Clint isn't dead yet, hell, _i'm_ not dead yet. Thor hasn't been attacked by anything more than words, and you really expect me to believe you're not in control? Because if this is what you look like out of control, just how far gone _were_ you when you attacked?"

 

His voice seemed to echo throughout the room, which was impossible because the objects in the room were well within the 343 meters needed for the sound to reverberate at the 2 second minimum for the human ear to hear—and why the fuck was he thinking about this?   
  
Ah. There it was, anger. Real anger this time, and every ounce of it was directed right at him. Tony didn't even flinch when Loki lifted his hand, he couldn't tear his gaze away from those green eyes narrowed into slits. He wondered, vaguely, what expression he had on his face, because instead of hitting him, Loki let out a hiss and disappeared in a haze of gold.  
  
 _So much for not ruining the thing._  
  
  
"Well, shit..."  
  


* * *

  
  
His room felt cold after such a long time away. It was ridiculous, but somehow Loki could not bring himself to leave the tower. Even worse, he couldn't even bring himself to leave Anthony's—no, _Stark's_ floor. He went right to his room like a sulking child told to go by his parent.  
  
This served to anger him more, and the only objects that could provide him with an outlet for his rage were the furniture. Or, he could have hit Stark as he had so very-much wished to. But he hadn't.  
  
 _Controlled chaos._  
  
Loki snarled, his fingers spread wide for slashing, nails like claws to rend anything he dig them into. The furniture would have to suffice, and tearing every object in the room to shreds did seem destructive enough to suit his needs.  
  
The bookcase splintered, scattering tombs across the floor.  
  
 _He was chaos, he was madness._  
  
The bed began to come apart, sheets shredded, mattress torn to pieces.  
  
 _He was rage, he was a monster._  
  
Loki spun and his magic faltered when he was faced with nothing but a window. A single pane of such a fragile substance was all that stood between him and the world. Air, trees, the thrum of life he missed so much. He could leave now, when he no longer had a reason to stay. If they wished to fight, he would fight them till their final breath. With his decision made, Loki stalked over to the window, laying a hand on the cool glass, and waited. He was waiting for something, perhaps a sign. Some sort of proof that he should stay.  
  
 _Controlled chaos._  
  
Loki growled, and just as he reached a hand back to shatter his prison walls, the door burst open and someone yelled.  
  
"Loki?! Are you alright?!"  
  
If the tone had been accusatory, had the worlds not been asking of his well being, the man would be dead. Instead, Loki turned slowly to see the confused and worried face of Steve Rogers. It was the last person he expected to see, and not the sign he expected. He accepted it, anyway, and moved away from the window and his freedom.  
  
"I am fine, Captain. I was simply releasing some anger."  
  
"That... okay, that's _acceptable_ ," Rogers agreed, still looking at little stunned at the state of the room. "Did Stark finally piss you off?"  
  
Loki twitched at the name, or perhaps the fact that the soldier's guess was spot on and maybe sounded a little hopeful. Loki glowered in defense. "No."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"... perhaps."  
  
Rogers nodded and held the door for him, giving Loki an honest smile. "Well, come on then, let's get you some tea."  
  
"I do not think tea will solve anything,"Loki groused, but followed him out anyway.  
  
"I think the conversation might help more than the tea."  
  
"I am _not_ speaking to you about this."  
  
"Suit yourself," Rogers said with a shrug, and strode into Stark's kitchen as though he belonged there. " _Barton_!"  
  
Loki flinched and peered around the captain's shoulder to see the smaller blond sitting on the kitchen table. Instead of his usual knife or bow in hand, he had a large assortment of meats and cheeses that he was shoveling into his face with a speed that could almost match Thor's.  
  
Rogers stomped closer, his mood clearly becoming irate. "Barton, what did I say about coming up here and—"  
  
"Those are mine," Loki interrupted cooly, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. He didn't bother to seem inoffensive, a fight was welcome this time.  
  
"Whatf yourf?" the archer asked past another mouthful. He didn't look to be in a fighting mood, which was almost more irritating.  
  
"The victuals you are currently stuffing into your mouth."  
  
"Sfo?"  
  
Loki gave him a nasty grin, replying, " _soo_ , it is poisoned in such a way so only I may eat them."  
  
As disgusting as the spray of chewed food was, the entire sputtering mess that was Barton was highly rewarding.  
  
"You're fucked up."  
  
"B-barton—"  
  
"So I've heard," Loki agreed over Roger's stuttering complaint.  
  
Clint wiped his mouth, grumbling, "I still don't understand you."  
  
"Good," Loki replied with a pleasant smile, "the day you do is the day Hel freezes over, and I do not wish that day to come anytime soon."  
  
"Tea," Rogers said firmly, looking between the two of them with threatening eyes. Loki gestured for him to continue, and watched the archer as he started sniffing every piece of ham on the plate. He seemed satisfied, or stupid, and started eating again.  
  
Loki resigned himself to the fact that he would have to ask Anthony, no, he could ask JARVIS to order him more. If he was staying. He still hadn't decided yet.  
  
Rogers turned from the kettle and held out a mug to Loki, who accepted it as graciously as could manage at the moment. He breathed in the steam—citrus, some sort of dark blend— before taking a sip.  
  
"So, we don't seem to be attacking each other," Rogers commented dryly. Both Loki and Barton shrugged at the same time, and Loki immediately opened his mouth to throw an insult his way before the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something in the air became static around them.  
  
He knew that feeling, he had felt it once before. The mug slipped from his fingers, and Loki turned to face a portal forming behind him, the same portal that opened up in his cell on Asgard. He teleported before the mug hit the floor.  
  


* * *

  
  
Tony was in the middle of working on his suit, or pretending to while his brain went through long lists of ways he could have fucked up less, when the tower exploded.  
  
At least, something exploded.  
  
Tony stood, dropping his tools and reaching for a gauntlet. "JARVIS what the fuck was that?"  
  
"Detecting an overflow of intruders. Some sssss-sort oooffffffffffffffffffffzzzzzaaaaMmmm.... Device."  
  
"JARVIS?"  
  
"Buddy?" he tried again, his voice wavering.  
  
Tony frowned up at the ceiling, and suddenly got very, very afraid. JARVIS did not get shut down, it simply did not _happen_. Whatever was happening, was beyond all reason and comprehension, and therefor dangerous as all hell.  
  
Tony kicked himself into action, slipping on his gauntlet and darting across the room for the rest of his suit. He collided with a body, and screamed. Just a little.  
  
"Anthony?!" Said the offending body, and Tony nearly relaxed.  
  
"Loki? What the fuck is—"  
  
"They've come, they're _here_!"  
  
Tony blinked up at Loki, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a note was being made about Loki's expression. Because he had thought he knew what Loki's fear looked like. He had been so, _very_ wrong.  
  
"I-it can't be... I have systems in place for this sort of—"  
  
"No, not for this," Loki interrupted, backing away from Tony as he glanced around the workroom. He was seeing the room with fresh eyes, the eyes of the hunted and desperate. Tony reached out for him, and froze when there was a crackle. Something was coming through a hole in the air, and it was coming through right behind Loki.  
  
Tony blanked out any other thoughts, and screamed, "Loki!"  
  
The god twisted away, but too late. A hand, much larger and more scaly than what was acceptable, gripped Loki's arm and started to pull him into the portal. Loki tore himself back desperately, but still started to slide into the swirling clouds that hid the owner of the hand. His eyes flicked up to find Tony, and Tony knew it was too late for him, because, without a second thought, he ran across the room and tore Loki from its grip. Because, as Loki fell away, eyes wide in utter shock, the too-large hand found Tony's neck instead.  
  
He had a second to open his mouth in surprise, before he got pulled away into another world.

* * *

  
  
Alarms were blaring, the air smelt of ozone, and Loki wondered vaguely what that stinging feeling in his chest was.  
  
Loki was still standing, still staring at the space where Anthony had disappeared, when the others came running in. Someone was screaming questions, someone was asking him what he did. An arrow was pressing into his neck, and blue eyes looked at him with an old disappointment.  
  
"Loki..." Thor growled, and all their possible chances at trust disappeared the second the hammer hit Loki in the chest and pinned him to the floor.  
  
So this was how everything came to an end.

 

How easy it was to break trust, how easy it was for Thor to betray him yet again. Loki laughed, crushed under the weight of the hammer, chest burning from the inside out. Another treasured person lost, and how easily his control slipped. There was a pattern here, and it somehow made sense to him now.  
  
Because this was Loki's life, after all, nothing but _chaos_. 


	11. Run, Devil, Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki saves the day. He saves the day, and runs away.

  
  
"Tell me where he is."   
  
A nasty bark of laughter escaped his lips in response. He knew it only served to antagonize them, but Loki found it to be the only thing keeping him from falling apart. And in doing just that, he could feel something other than that hollow space in his chest. It was the only thing that made him smile, even if there was nothing but pain in his eyes.   
  
"Just  _ tell _ me!" Steve yelled, not for the first time. The solider had lost his patience three times over the past two days, one of the times ending with Loki on the floor with a bloody nose. Why he didn't just disappear, or at least avoid the hit, he did not know.   
  
No, that was a  _ lie _ .   
He knew exactly why he let the man hit him. He deserved it, all of it. All the punishment these mortals could imagine, he had earned for losing Anthony.   
  
"This is not working," the archer muttered from some dark corner of the room. "Let me try it my way already, i'm sure he will be much more cooperative with one less eye."   
  
"Nay," came Thor's obvious and disapproving voice, "you shall not harm my brother as such."   
  
"Do I need to remind you of what he's done?" Clint snipped back, adding in a nastier tone, "also, you threw your hammer at him not too long ago, you're not exactly one to preach."   
  
Loki watched them continue to bicker, the tension rising even more as the Widow joined them with a less than favorable report.   
  
Their great protector, their SHIELD had failed to trace anything from the portals. Loki was not surprised, not in the least. He knew exactly where those lead, and he doubted any human technology would be advanced enough to follow it anywhere.   
  
Well, perhaps Stark's technology could have. His work was more advanced than Loki had ever thought mortals could achieve. He almost wished, for some small second, that he had managed to control the genius back in the days of the attack. Just imaging it was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Unstoppable, they would have been  _ unstoppable _ .   
  
But no, the device in his chest, that 'night light' that kept Anthony alive, also kept him from the persuasion of the Tesseract. Both he and Anthony stumbled upon a theory as to why during one of their many conversations down in the lab.   
  
The lab that was ruined, that broke and collapsed in on itself as the portal closed. The lab that still had a puddle of his own blood on the floor. Where he last saw Anthony's startled face as he disappeared into the light.   
  
Loki twitched, the first real, if not involuntary, movement since they locked him to the table. It did not go unnoticed, the clink of his chains against the metal table top enough to still their argument. They were all looking at him now, an array of emotion threading through them like colored strands of reed in a weaver's hand.   
  
Rage, undiluted and honest, seeped from Barton. So sure that he was right about Loki's lies, so confident and broken all at the same. Sorrow, and perhaps some fear driven to desperation that appeared as anger, that was the captain. With his brow furrowed, eyes dropped to the floor to avoid Loki's gaze. He was mourning their loss already.   
  
The widow, the spy with her stone face, she spoke in volumes. The downturn of her lips were sharper than usual, not that he had seen much of her during his stay at the tower. It was enough, however, to prove that she was suffering a loss as well. He had been aware that the spy had been attached to Stark in some way at a previous time. An attachment that had seemed to grow weaker over time. But, perhaps not.   
  
Loki's face split into a sick smirk as his eyes finally settled on his  _ dear old brother _ . The traitor thrice over, the better liar out of the two of them. God of lies was a title Loki would gladly hand over to Thor, the brilliant, innocent Thor. Wasn't he so clever, all that pretense of kindness, the attempts at understanding, the promise of some form of trust.   
  
_ Lies, lies, lies. _  
  
Who's weapon was the first to find Loki when they entered the room? No arrow, no shield, no bullet in his skull.   
  
No, it was his dear brother's hammer that crushed the air out of him, that made him bleed on the floor.   
  
_ The Golden God of Lies. _  
  
Loki snickered, and the faces before him shifted into pure irritation.   
  
"One would think you were angry with me," he drawled.   
  
"Angry? Why would we be  _ angry _ ?" Barton asked, taking a step closer. "Oh, that's right, you're a fucking lying sack of shit who just sold the one guy who trusted him to a bunch of aliens!"   
  
"Ah, you speak the truth," Loki agreed, "he was the only one who trusted me. I suppose that attests to his current placement in the universe. Consider yourselves warned."   
  
"Loki," Thor rasped, one strong arm pushing the angry, sputtering archer back. He turned, then, speaking softly to the others. Whatever he said seemed to convince them to file out of the room with a small amount of complaints.   
  
Once alone, the tension seemed to ease off a bit, but never quite fade away. Thor sat, hammer placed almost ceremoniously on the table between them, and frowned at him.   
  
"I sense we did this before," Loki said as he studied the man before him. "As I recall, nothing came of it then, either."   
  
"You know where he is."   
  
It wasn't a question, but something Thor was sure of. Loki wanted to spit it back in his face, the lair, but there was no point in hiding something they both knew.   
  
"I do,"Loki stated honestly. " _ And _ ?"   
  
"And I wish for you to tell me, so I know there is some shred of hope for you."   
  
Loki laughed again, another sharp, humorless sound that seemed to echo on after he stopped.   
  
"Oh, Thor.... No.  _ No _ , I lost my hope just days ago as he fell through a portal."   
  


* * *

  
  
Something was wrong, that was painfully obvious. Like, very painfully obvious.   
  
He felt all twisted up inside, like someone took a blender to his organs and make a smoothie. The first hint was the blood in his vomit after he woke up in some small, dank cell. There wasn't much at first, but the third or fourth time was mostly all red. Bright red, fresh blood in his stomach and so much pain.   
  
Tony vaguely recognized the feeling of hope flickering and dying out in his chest. Oh yes, he'd been here before. Cave or prison, pain, dying. Story of his life.   
  
Tony had managed to stop the bloody vomiting, or rather, he ran out of energy to keep it up and  _ god _ he felt so broken inside. Ironically enough, his reactor was just fine. In fact, it was probably the highest functioning part of his body at this very moment. If he could summon up the energy, he would laugh.

 

His brain wandered away form himself and settled on  
  
 _Loki._  
  
Loki's face fading into white as something pulled him away. He really thought he got all of the god's expressions down, and every time he was sure that he knew what to expect, Loki surprised him.  
  
It was fear, the kind that drives you insane enough to curl up in a fetal position and start drooling. That's what Loki showed him as he disappeared, pure fear. Just sad and scared and he was a god, what did that _mean_? What did that mean for Tony, to be in the hands of things that made a god show that expression?  
  
Apparently, smoothie organs.  
  
Great, he was going to die thinking about smoothies and how much he wanted to tell Loki that he cared about him.  
  
 _Banana, pineapple, maybe some rum, Loki, I think i'm in love with your brain, mango, maybe i'm just in love with you, a little umbrella on top to make it festive, a cherry, there's always a cherry impaled on the umbrella stick, yeah, I love you._  
  
The door—something Tony had forgotten existed—opened and four of those things came in. They didn't look friendly like ET, or very H.R Giger, either.   
  
Hostile was the word for it, all sharp edges and what was that skin color? Baby Vomit? Split pea soup? _Gross_? Yeah, gross and hostile. Wonderful.  
  
Tony tried to say something as witty as his thoughts were providing, only, his mouth and smoothie organs wouldn't allow it at all and blood bubbled out instead. One of them said something, which startled Tony because that was defiantly not words but more like a rumble that came out of a jungle cat about to pounce. Did he mention the hostile part?  
  
 _Danger approaching fast, abort, abort!_  
  
Tony tried to roll away as they crowded around him, and failed because one of them decided to hold him down. Panic started to bubble up with the blood, and Tony could do nothing else but stare up at them and wait for death.  
  
 _I love you._ _  
_ _I wish I told you._ _  
_ _What is my fucking life?_  
  
The thing holding him down yanked his shirt up, and Tony let out a gargled scream as the mere touch of fabric against his body felt like knives. The creature wasn't going to stop for anything, obviously, and one hand curled around the arc reactor.  
  
"N-no..." He managed, choking and struggling to get away. He would die, that was obvious, but he would die _whole_. No one was allowed to get that tech, even if Tony had to break it himself. Which was what he was trying to do with all his weak struggling and flailing.  
  
 _Oh yeah, he needed that thing called energy._  
  
The aliens were babbling again, and pointing, and making weird noises that almost sounded impressed. The one with a hand over the reactor moved away suddenly, and the next thing Tony knew, one of them was picking him up like a doll. Tony struggled weakly, yet again, and failed to do much more than bleed on them.  
  
The journey from his cell to another room was a blur of doors and corners that Tony really wished he could remember, in case he survived and needed to escape. Then again, he was no god, like Loki, and he was currently a human smoothie. There wasn't much hope for him.  
  
When they didn't dump him into a garbage compactor or shoot him out an airlock, Tony felt it was safe to say that they knew his reactor was important, because, instead, they dumped him on a surgical table and started prepping for something.  
  
Tony struggled, one last time, to break the device in his chest. Feebly hitting his manacles against the glass cover. It was pointless, and kind of embarrassing, but he tried all the same. He tried and tired and tried until one of them chained his arms up above his head, and pushed a contraption over the bed. It hovered there, and the alien—who seemed to be in change—started flipping switches and poking buttons. It was all very fascinating, but Tony was fading fast.  
  
Black on the edges of his vision, and god dammit, he was obviously hallucinating that Loki was standing there looking at him all sad and shit. Tony smiled at him as reassuringly as possible, because what the hell, even imaginary Lokis deserved to be reassured. The god hallucination didn't smile back, and there was something tense and urgent in his eyes.  
  
 _It's okay,_ Tony wanted to say, _it's not your fault._  
  
Loki wavered a little, his body flickering in and out of sight. Tony's smile slipped as he watched, and he tried to call out to him.  
  
 _I love—!_  
  
The machine kicked on, and Tony screamed ten times louder than he ever thought possible. His body arched off of the table as a current of electricity pulsed through him, and it burned. The longer it continued, the louder his scream grew until he wasn't even sure if that was him making the noise, or the machine.  
  
 _Please just die, you stupid body. Just die already, no more pain. Let go._  
  
  
The sound stopped, the pain stopped, and Tony fell back onto the table panting and whimpering as his body shook with the aftershock. He really wanted to pass out now, or die, or something safe and final, but apparently that wasn't an option. So, he lifted his head and looked around him.  
  
The aliens seemed pleased enough, conversing amongst themselves and properly ignoring Tony. Tony, who actually felt pretty fucking good right now. Really good, much less smoothie inside, if not a little hyperactive. He could run for miles, swim for days, do some extraneous activity for long periods of time. Obviously, they did something to heal him, probably removing years of damage to his liver while they were at it. It certainly felt less sluggish.  
  
The implications of their actions, however, were not optimistic. You didn't heal someone who was dying all nice and perfectly in time to give you his magic chest light. No, that usually meant they wanted something from you, something only you could do.  
  
Something like building another arc reactor for them.  
  
 _God dammit, it was Afghanistan all over again._  
  
What was that thing about hope, again?  
  
Oh yeah, he lost it when Loki watched him fall away with nothing but fear on his face.  
  


* * *

  
  
Loki came back to his body and forced down the wave of bile that had risen in his throat. The magic itself was not as taxing as it would be for a lesser-skilled user of magic, but what he'd seen was difficult to stomach. Anthony on the table with those things looking over him, obviously dying.   
  
He was _ dying _ .   
  
"I must… go," Loki whispered urgently to no one, standing up with a clatter of chains. He stared at them for a moment, not even hearing what Thor was saying. Some useless question or another.   
  
Loki pulled the chains from table, melting the shackles from his wrists as easily as if they were butter. He wasted no time to smirk at the startled sound that escaped Thor, and strode towards the door.   
  
"Loki!," Thor bellowed, and the hammer left the table. "You shall not leave!"   
  
"I  _ will _ ," Loki spat at him and opened the door. He was greeted with the barrel of a gun, the tip of an arrow, and the sharp blue glare of the captain.   
  
"I will _ leave _ ," he repeated, voice heavy with warning.   
  
Clint let out a huff of laughter and replied, "no, you won't. You're not going anywhere but a nice, dark cell."   
  
"Barton..."   
  
Loki turned his head a little to see the spark of disappointment in his bro—Thor's eyes. If Loki wasn't in a hurry, he would find the blonde hypocrite standing behind him amusing.   
  
"I will bring back your dear friend," Loki spoke, turning his gaze back to the others. "And once he is returned safely, you shall never see or hear from me  _ again _ ."   
  
The Widow's gun tipped downwards with her finger still on the trigger. It was a sure a sign as any that she accepted his proposal.    
  
"Never again?" The archer growled incredulously from behind his bow. "Think we can get that signed in blood?"   
  
Loki kept his expression neutral as he lifted an arm and slashed a nail across the skin with a jerk of his wrist. Thor let out a choked sound from behind him, and even Rogers looked ready to protest. 

 

_ Too late, you fools. Far to late to pretend to care now. _  
  
"I, Loki," he began, pulling a parchment and quill from the air, " swear on my blood and soul to never appear before you—"   
  
" _ Loki _ , do not do this!" Thor protested, one hand squeezing his shoulder. "You cannot—"   
  
Loki shook Thor's hand away with a sharp jerk, twisting to snap at him, "you will not tell me what I can and cannot do,  _ ever _ again. You have played me a fool enough for one life time!"   
  
"Playing? Brother, it is only advisement I wish to offer you. You should not let this set you back so."   
  
"Was your hammer to my chest an  _ advisement _ ?" Loki questioned, his voice icy. "Tell me, was your order to 'know your place'  _ advice _ ?"   
  
Thor stiffened, his fingers curling around the handle of his hammer until the leather creaked. "I did what I felt I must... Stark has been lost by your hand, you must see—"   
  
Loki did not mean to, he honesty didn't, but that was the final straw and he  _ so _ wanted to see this man bleed right now. His knife in Thor's belly was clearly not what the blonde had expected, and Loki relished the look of surprise. Even more, the hint of disappointment that flowed into those blue eyes staring down at him.

 

Disappointed, Thor?  _ Good _ .   
  
The arrow was back against the side of his head, as was the gun. He did not fear either, they might as well have not existed for the power they had over him. Had he not already proved faster and mightier than all their weapons? 

  
"You have earned this," Loki whispered, leaning into his blade, hateful eyes focused on Thor and only Thor. "Not for the years of cruelty, the years of learning my  _ place _ , no, but for your never ending ignorance. You inability to ever...  _ ever _ understand me."   
  
Thor croaked, less from the pain of the blade and more from the pain of his heart. He would not die from this, which some small part of Loki noted as important. As for the pain the man would suffer, Loki found he could not care less. He had given his brother a dozen chances, countless moments where he allowed a little of himself to be seen, and the man had thrown it away time and time again. If not for Anthony, Loki would have never know the difference, never even had an inkling that it was possible to look at Loki, and actually  _ see _ him. This was how things were, and always would be. Loki would be the one to leave, yet again.   
  
"You have misstepped one final time, Thor, and the price for it is me."   
  
Thor opened his mouth once more to protest, perhaps beg even, but Loki was gone before the fool said something that would only send the blade in deeper.   
  


* * *

  
  
The spell to travel in a corporeal form, rather than the sending of his spirit, was far more complicated and took more time. It was the distance that made it difficult, and had he been in the weakened state he originally was at the time of his departure from that torturous place, Loki would never have been able to do it.   
  
But he was whole again, healed and mostly healthy. All thanks to Anthony...   
  
That ridiculous mortal who somehow, beyond all reason, trusted him, perhaps even cared for him. Loki scoffed at the impossibility of such a thought, and wove his spell a little deeper.   
  
_ Love is for children. _  
  
With a shake of his head, Loki dragged the charcoal around his body in a circle, continuing on as he reached the end to join a smaller circle inside. Next were the runes, a source of power themselves, but often taxing for the user to call upon. Especially when calling on the runes of the Four Directions and of Shadows. It was a dangerous game, pulling these together, but a necessity for the spell. Rushing was also never wise, but Loki shoved aside all sense of caution and hurried into the casting.   
  
A spark traveled up his arm, burning him from the inside out. With an angry hiss of pain, Loki pulled his hand back to massage it. Perhaps this was unwise, after all. Perhaps he should take the time to cast it properly.   
  
Perhaps he didn't  _ have _ time.   
  
"I hate you," Loki mumbled to no one, and forced his shaking hand to finish the rune circle around him.   
  
Next was blood, which served as a reminder that they had never completed his contract. It was utter nonsense, anyway. They didn't even believe or understand the bindings of blood and his word, so why should he bother? He knew that he would keep his promise, and that was all that mattered. How could he return there, after all, when he had lost their precious inventor?   
  
Loki narrowed his eyes and shut down all thoughts leading down such dangerous paths. He refused to think about the place where he was going, the number of years spent screaming there. He refused to think of the man he was about to save. There was no time for fear, if there was no time for proper casting.   
  
So, with a few choice words, Loki first activated the channel between the realms. The raw energy of it nearly sent him to the ground, but he gritted his teeth and held on until he was sure the pathway was clear. When he heard no disturbance in the music of the pathway, he took a deep breath and activated the second spell.   
  
The reaction was instantaneous, and Loki's body twitched once before he was thrown into the light.   
  


* * *

  
  


_I'm gonna get you to the bottom and shoot you..._

  
Tony ended up getting hurt again, wasn't that ironic? It was his fault, this time, for trying to fight them. Which was probably stupid because they  _ probably _ wanted him in one piece for the whole reactor building thing, which was  _ obviously _ what they wanted him for if the little work shop they set up was anything to go by. Then again, the Ten Rings had no qualms about torturing him before they set him to his work.   
  
Assholes, he was always surrounded by assholes.

 

_ God dammit, it hurts. _  
  
What the hell was Tony supposed to do with a mangled leg like that? No running, obviously, but building things required movement beyond a small field granted by the stool they provided. No matter how he explained, gave example to, or proved this to be a fact, they would not take him back to the healing device to fix his stupid leg. Maybe they saw that hungry look he had when he eyed it before, but come on, alien healing tech. It was an inventor's wet dream.   
  
Speaking of dreams, Tony still couldn't shake that hallucination of Loki from his head. Every night, when he lay on his nice, cold floor and stared up into nothingness, he saw those worried eyes. A worried Loki, standing oddly frozen at the edge of the room. Why would he hallucinate that? Better yet, why wasn't his hallucination Loki naked and doing sexy things for him? Apparently his own brain decided to sabotage him during his final moments. Next time he died, Loki better be naked.   
  
  
Tony sarcastically thanked himself for the ability to plan that far ahead, and turned another screw in his fake design of an arc reactor. He was losing it, obviously. The first signs were talking to yourself, right? Also, things were not going the right way around in his head anymore, no matter how often he reminded himself that it would end, he just needed to fix up that leg, any day now he would escape. It had been a week, or maybe a month? IT couldn't have been that long , but there was something about this place that got to him. Something like the whole being alone thing, something Tony Stark never was. 

 

He was _never_ alone.  
  
He always had JARVIS or Pepper or some blond or brunette before he had the Avengers and then he had Loki.  
  
Loki was the best and the worst thing for him to focus on. Thoughts of Loki often made him smile, and sometimes he would talk to the god inside his head.  
  
 _Your hair is a carefully controlled Fractal of the Brownian motion._  
  
' _Stark, leave my hair and science apart._ '  
  
See? He was losing it. At least his inner Loki voice was close to the real, if not perfect. Perfect little bag-of-sass, coupled with that intelligence. That's where the down side to his Loki thoughts came in, because he _missed_ him. He really fucking missed that asshole. Tony wanted to snuggle into him and not leave bed for days. He wanted to finally get past that fragile stage where sex was too much, too traumatizing for both of them. He wanted to talk to him, about everything, about themselves, about the future of science and magic, about goddamn _bees_.  
  
It was thoughts like those that finally made  Tony would cry at night. Just staring up into that never ending black, tears streaming down his face in silence, in a way he hadn't cried since he was a teenager and watched what was left of his mother's body get lowered into the ground. He had forced himself to stop, then. But here, it didn't matter, there was no one there to see it, anyway.  
  
He was fine in the workshop, better, even. The whole sham of the thing somehow making it easier to keep up the act.  
  
 _You're Tony Stark, here is your work, ignore the leg, ignore the pain, just work and smile and survive._  
  
Well, h e _was_ doing fine, until hallucination Loki showed up again.  
  
It was a little different this time, more bang and colored smoke, but Tony sort of got what his brain was going for. Oh yes, the daring rescue. Now where were the horses and the swords? He was the damsel in distress, right?  
  
"Hi," he said, just to be boring and because he was used to talking out loud to the things in his own head these days. The god's eyes darted around the room, and seemed to come to the conclusion that they were alone, releasing some of the tension from his body. Tony started to think what Loki would say, something snippy, when Loki actually said what he was thinking.  
  
"I travel all this way to assist you, and all you have to say is ' _hi_ '?"  
  
"Well, I guess I could stretch for a 'hello', Is that better?" Tony turned in his stool and gave him a sickeningly wide smile. "Hello!"  
  
Hallucination Loki stalked closer, his eyes narrowing at Tony as they darted over the scene before him.  
  
"You are hurt."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"What has happened?"  
  
"I fought back."  
  
"You fought back...?" Loki mused, looking his body over again. "What of the wounds you sustained before?"  
  
"You were there, _you_ should know," Tony shot back, getting a little irritated at his own head. Come on, no need go over past events, get naked Hallucination Loki.  
  
Loki replied with some difficulty, "I saw you dying, Anthony."  
  
"Yeah, been there done that. I'm good, as you _know_."  
  
Loki's expression shifted to confusion, and he came closer, one hand resting on the work-table in front of Tony.  
  
"Tell me," he began slowly, "why do you keep insinuating that I know of such events that have happened without my presence?"  
  
Okaaay, so either Tony's brain was providing a hyper-realistic argument to himself, or maybe...  
  
" _Loki_?"  
  
"Yes, I believe you do know of me."  
  
"Wait, wait," Tony babbled, hand up to stop everything. "Wait..."  
  
Tony flinched when that pale hand, that he had clearly hallucinated on the table, touched his cheek and was oh-so-very real.  
  
" _Oh god_... it's you, actually you. Real you. Real Loki."  
  
"It is me," Loki confirmed, a strangely gentle smile across his lips. It faded as his eyes hardened and the hand dropped. "...and we really must be going."  
  
"Right, going. Rescuing the damsel. Uh, so the reason I was dying was their little intergalactic travel portal thing. Think we can skip that, this time?" Tony frowned and looked Loki over, both because he was still a little iffy on realty, and because Loki didn't look like a smoothie. "How are you okay? Is this a god thing?"  
  
Loki pulled him from the stool and answered softly as he crossed the room and peered out the door. "You were not the expected cargo for the journey, it was not calibrated to your body type."  
  
Meaning he was a weak little mortal, yeah, _that_ explained it. Tony stood on his good leg and tried to hobble over to Loki. It failed spectacularly, nearly sending him face first on to the floor.  
  
"I suppose this makes things more difficult," Loki said as he caught him. "We shan't get far with you like this."  
  
"Can't we just go the way you just came in? Also, it's not like I wanted to have a broken leg, thank you very much."  
  
"No, that was... _no_. We need to get ourselves to their transporter device," Loki muttered, peeking out the small window in the door again. "Only one guard, apparently you rate as a much less dangerous figure than I."  
  
"Fuck you, I took two out with a scalpel before they took me down."  
  
Loki let out a huff of what Tony assumed was laughter and pulled him close to his right side. "Wrap your arm around my shoulder and try to run with me."  
  
"Can't you heal it?"  
  
"I used all my power to get here."  
  
"Shit," Tony hissed and glanced at the door nervously. "Does that mean we're both weaponless?"  
  
Loki pulled out several knives and gave him one without another word.  
  
"Guess that answers my question." Tony turned it over in his hand and added, "just so you know, i'm more of a shooting things kind of guy, so please don't be too disappointed if I, say, drop this on my foot or something."

 

“I shall try to hold my disappointment in.”

 

“Can we just go? The suspense is killing me,” Tony groused, leaning heavily against the god. He didn't like the way Loki wasn't looking at him anymore, or the fact that they hadn't kissed. Okay, so maybe the situation wasn't exactly conducive to kissing or romantic feelings, but hell, he hadn't seen Loki in over a month, was a kiss too much to ask for? Maybe he had been reading into what they had ( The Thing ) a little too much? Whatever, now it was too late, now they had to run for their fucking lives.

 

And run they did, a three-legged race filled with booby traps, puke-colored aliens, and lots and lots of stabbing. Tony thought he did pretty well in the first stretch, holding on to Loki as the god propelled them forward at what had to be at least 20 miles per hour. Tony twisted in his arms when one approached from the side, using Loki's body to push off and swing the blade at whatever parts of the creature looked soft. The neck was a good place, good and unfortunately bloody. Both of them were already covered with the stuff by the time they made it to the second floor.

 

“This is... attracting a... lot of attention,” Tony panted, starting to feel like a dead weight. Being the one with shorter legs, one of them broken, was really starting to cause problems with their equilibrium.

 

“This is much less hectic than my previous escape.”

 

“That's... really not a... relief, you know.”

 

Loki smirked over his shoulder at him, making eye contact for the first time since he arrived. “It means we are doing well.”

 

“If you say so,” Tony huffed in response and let Loki pull him along.

 

They made it outside, with only one weapon lost. Tony hand ended up lodging it into one particularity beefy throat of the guards and couldn't pull it out in time. Now he really _was_ a dead weight. The least he could do was warn Loki when they had company, like right now.

 

“Uuuh, at your ten-o-clock.”

 

“Ten _what_?”

 

“TEN-OH-FUCKING-CLOCK!” Tony bellowed, and was forced to shove an arm up to protect his face from a blast. His skin sizzled, and for a moment Tony wondered what smelled like burgers.  
  
“ _Anthony_?!”

 

“Nngghyeah, i'm fine...”

 

Loki twisted around him like a dancer, a bloody knife welding dancer, and threw his weapon. His aim was, of course, perfect, but now they were down to their fists and feet. Not a promising future ahead of them, unless... Tony tucked his useless hand against his stomach, yanking his shirt down just enough to begin twisting his reactor out of his chest. Loki's jaw dropped, and if the situation was less deadly, Tony would have really found that a perfect moment to stick his tongue in that mouth of his.

 

“What are you doing?!” the god screeched, diving forward and pressing his hands over Tony's against the reactor. “Now is not the time to give up!”  
  


“Idiot! Like I would give up _now,_ ” Tony snapped, shoving the hands off and pulling the device free from his chest. “I have an idea that—“

 

“You will _die_.”

 

“Only if I wait too long, jesus, did you listen to anything I told you?”

 

“It's not as though you spoke much of this... object,” Loki reminded, frowning before his attention was once again drawn to another group approaching them. “We need to run.”

 

“One... second...”

 

“One,” Loki said, and picked Tony up right off the ground, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. This was starting to get old.

 

“Hey! I'm not _actually_ a fucking damsel in distress” Tony complained, fumbling with the wiring, “This is a delicate process, you're gonna get us killed.”

 

“I am keeping us alive, Anthony, so kindly shut your mouth... lest you bite your tongue off.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes and went back to work, which was near-impossible to do when you're rocking back and forth on a fucking back. Tony groaned, and yep, there was the nausea.

 

_Fight it, come on. Loki will kill you if you vomit down his back. Or worse,_ you _could kill you by vomiting on the damn wires exposed in your chest and shorting it out._

 

Loki jumped to dodge a blast from their larger weapons, and Tony gave up on doing anything too impressive. 

 

“Stand still for one second,” he ordered, lifting the reactor and aiming it shakily at the aliens now following way too closely behind them. Oddly enough, Loki listened, and stopped dead still. Tony watched and waited as they drew closer, and closer, and then he grinned. 

 

“Is _this_ is what you wanted?” he asked in a sweet voice, and fired. It was a pretty explosion, and there was a moment where the reactor flickered and went out. Said moment made Tony's heart rate sky-rocket until it flickered back on and remained its usual bright self.

 

Loki was off running again before the screams and curses faded, now heading up hill. Tony struggled to place the reactor back in, gasping for air, trying not to puke, trying not to drop his one and only life line.

 

“We are here,” Loki panted, lifting Tony up and setting him down easily. His fingers slipped the device out of Tony's hands and twisted it in with one quick movement. “there, now I believe it is past time to leave.” 

 

“Agreed, home sounds nice right about now.”

 

Loki winced, so obviously and painfully, Tony reached out to look for a wound. But Loki shook him off, glancing around before he stepped up to the control pad and started tapping the screen. He looked relatively calm now, which was more than Tony could say for himself. His leg was thrumming with pain, his arm still felt like it was burning, and honestly, he needed at least three day's sleep. 

 

Loki tapped faster, his face full of concentration on the panel in front of him. How was it he still looked so elegant, covered in alien blood and dirt, and god knows what else? How did he manage look fucking  _beautiful_ like that? 

 

Tony shook his head and stepped up to the circular pad on the ground. There was an 'x' directly in the middle of it, and Tony couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape. 

 

“What could you possibly find so amusing at this time?” Loki asked, clearly not all that interested.

 

“'X' marks the spot, Lokes, I'm almost afraid of stepping on it.”

 

“What ever nonsense you are spouting, keep it to yourself and step on the damn 'x'” 

 

Tony saluted him from behind his back, saying, “Sir, yes sir!” before he did as he was told, and waited for something to happen. Loki tapped a few more times before looking satisfied, and rushed over to cram himself into the small space with Tony. Things lit up, something hummed, and Tony was hit with a sudden thought. 

 

“Oh fuck, we aren't going to end up smashing through the roof again are weeeeeeeeeeeeEEIIIIII!!“

 

There was a fantastic whooshing sound coupled with a less fantastic pull on his body that sent them flying through space and Tony really, really did not want to think about what was keeping them in there, and space out  _there_ . 

 

They hit the ground, hard. The wind was knocked right out of him, and for a moment Tony saw only black.

 

Then, it was Loki hovering above him with the strangest expression on. Almost sad, maybe? But before Tony could study it longer, the god leaned over him, his lips just brushing against Tony's, and whispered, 

 

“Goodbye, Tony.”

 

Tony's eyes snapped open wide, and his hand shot out to grab that hand that was cupping his cheek, but... he was too late, there was nothing before him but a flicker of gold and dust settling. Tony sat up and looked around him in a panic, trying to breath, and maybe figure out what the  _hell_ that was about. They just got back, for fucks sake! Why did he need to run off suddenly? Where did he go? What did Tony do  _wrong_ ?

 

“Loki?!” 

 

 

“Loki, god dammit, I _know_ you can hear me!” he tried to shout louder, dust filling his lunges and chocking back his words. 

 

“Tony!?” 

 

He whipped his head around to yell at the god, but found a startled Bruce clambering out the roof-top door instead.

 

Ah, the roof, the tower... he was home.

 

“Where's Loki?” he asked, unashamed of getting right to _that_ specific point. 

 

“Uh, Tony, you just fell from the sky, I have no idea.”

 

“I do,” someone said in a bland voice.

 

Tony peered over Bruce as the man came closer and started muttering about bandages and burn cream.

 

“Okaaaay, do tell, Clint.”

 

“He made a contract to never show up in front of us again. Signed in blood, and all that,” Clint answered, keeping his usual smugness in check, oddly enough.

 

“That's bullshit,” Tony snapped, jerking his burned arm away from Bruce and sitting up more. “Don't make up shit to make your life more interesting.”

 

Clint just shook his head and left, and again, Tony realized he was so damn quiet about it. What was up with  _that_ ? Did he really miss something when he stepped out?

 

Tony looked around the roof, once more ignoring Bruce's questions as he poked at his body. 

 

They must have been really shocked when Tony got kidnapped. They probably all rushed down to the lab, and found...

 

Tony felt the air go thin, and his heart lurched. 

 

He just  _disappeared_ , no explanation, leaving Loki with a closing portal and no proof that Loki hadn't orchestrated it all. Tony was probably the only one who didn't think Loki had something to do with it, because he trusted Loki.

 

And  _they_ didn't.

 

“You guys thought he did this to me, didn't you?” He asked Bruce quietly. 

 

Bruce looked up from his investigation with a deep frown. “I wasn't there for most of it, but yeah, that was pretty much the consensus.” 

 

“Oh...” That made sense. That means, Loki was actually holding up his end of the deal by leaving. Because he was being blamed for something he didn't do, just when the god thought there was some sort of trust starting to form.

 

_Oh._

 

That expression wasn't just sadness, it was regret. For what, though, for trusting Tony? For leaving him? For being kidnapped by crazy, ugly aliens that he may have accidentally lead to Earth? Was Tony supposed to just get that all from a 'goodbye', and  _not_ ask questions? Well Loki had another thing coming if he thought he could just up and leave like that. Tony would... 

 

_Oh._

 

 

Tony swallowed the burn of tears at the back of his throat and ducked his head, looking down at the bloody mess staining his clothes. That had been a daring rescue, possibly a one way trip back to the hell Loki had escaped from, and he had done it all for Tony. He had done it all because he knew what was coming when they got back, if they got back. That was why there were no kissed when he arrived, the short responses, the sadness in his eyes. That was why he said goodbye.

 

_What was that thing, called 'hope' again?_

 

 

 


	12. The Best are Never Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Loki make some choices, even if they seem to be the opposite.

  
  
It hurt. 'It' being everything, right now. 'It' encompassing both physical and mental aspects of himself. He might even go as far as to say spiritual, too.  
  
Tony's chest ached, not from his reactor—which was the first thing he checked—but from something deep inside that cracked and creaked when he moved too quickly or thought too hard about a certain someone's face before he disappeared. Maybe it was all the space travel, or maybe he was just getting old. Yeah, that was it.

 

Thankfully, his leg hurt like hell, and that was a welcome distraction that also came with the promise of high doses of pain medication before the night was through. Apparently, a steady week or more of broken bones grating against one another was bad news. Bad as in ' _may never be able to walk on it again_ ' kind of bad. Bruce talked about lacerations in his muscles, something about tendons, all that fun stuff that meant absolutely nothing to Tony because his stupid head decided that no amount of pain or dread was going to distract him from thinking about Loki.  
  
He wasn't ignorant enough—or nice enough—to say it was heart ache, but god dammit, his _heart_ hurt. It hurt like someone he trusted all his life pulling out his arc reactor and leaving him to die. The comparison was _that_ close and utterly terrifying.

  
But, he did have more important things to do than moon over his thing with Loki, like being carried to the med ward, bad news, more bad news, hey, how about some bad news?

  
“Give me a well written, single-spaced explanation for the bullshit he had missed during his little vacation. Bonus points if you include a citation page and direct quotes!” he quips cheerily, the humor of his grin not reaching his eyes at all.  
  
"You were missing!"  
  
"Yeah? So was Loki. In the exact same way. Not that fucking long ago!" Tony shouted right back, waving his bandaged arm in emphasis. "You're seriously telling me none of you made that connection?"

 

“We made the connection that he was—“  
  
"He was standing _right_ there, Stark. It wasn't that far of a stretch—"  
  
"Yes it _was_ ," he interjected cooly. "You're fucking hypocrites, the lot of you. _You_ ," he pointed to Steve, "are the worst of them, in second place only to _you_ ," and jabbed a finger at Thor.  
  
It sounded like a storm was rolling in across the city the second he pointed fingers. That, or Thor was really hungry, and nope, that was definitely a warning rumble that Tony ignored, because he was fucking pissed and that's what Tony did. "I wish the cameras had been on,” he continued without commenting on Thor's display, “because man, I bet you all looked like a bunch of assholes storming in on Loki. Which one of you hit him first? I'm surprised Hulk didn't come out and join in the fun, or was Bruce the only one who was in full possession of his mental facilities?  
  
Faces fell into embarrassment or anger somewhere during his rant, losing the last ebb of joy from seeing him alive as soon as he opened his mouth. They were fickle, Tony needed to remember that. Humans and gods alike. Like he didn't have the _right_ to be angry with them, like he didn't have a fucking reason to yell.  
  
"I avoided the entire thing," Bruce spoke up from Tony's side. "As much as you seem... chummy with the other guy, I'd personally rather not let him out. That and, yes, I thought it was unlikely that Loki planned to have his tormentors track him down here. From what i've seen, he's been pretty comfortable here without them."  
  
"How were we supposed to know those even _were_ his attackers?" Clint argued, not meeting Tony's eye. He had a feeling it was guilt for something Clint, obviously, did when Tony was gone. He would have to get the full story out of one of these bastards sooner than later.   
  
He grinned nastily, making a point of staring at Clint as he spoke, "I'm pretty sure there was a big red arrow there called 'Loki panicking and trying to run away instead of throwing them a party'. Or do you greet your best pals by freaking out and trying to climb out a window?"  
  
"At least I don't greet my enemy with open arms, like _someone,_ " Clint snapped, finally meeting his gaze.   
  
"Yeah, bitch at _me_ for having the capacity for forgiveness and diplomacy, and stop being jealous because no one wants to hug you, you twit."  
  
Steve interrupted at last, ending his long silence with, "enough arguing over who is right or wrong, what's done is done. We need to formulate a plan for what to do now that this has happened. There's obviously a chance that they might come back, and we've all seen how easily they got in, so—"  
  
"No, Rogers, that's where you're wrong."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Tony sat up and looked the man directly in the eye. "There's no 'easy' way in here. I've got layers upon layers of security measures and tech that could take down the god damn global economy in the blink of an eye." Everyone shifted nervously at that, and Tony relished in their discomfort at his power for just a second. Okay maybe two seconds.  
  
"That's not all," he continued after clearing his throat, "Loki wasn't down there just to play tonsil tennis with me, I mean, he was, but there was science too."  
  
" _Gross_."  
  
"Don't knock it until you try it, which you never will," he said to Natasha with a hint of threat in his voice that sounded all too much like something a protective boyfriend would say and he was kind of glad she looked unimpressed. "The point is, Loki and I did work on things down here, and one of them was a security net."  
  
  
"You let Loki work... with your technology?" Bruce asked incredulously.  
  
"Yes and no," Tony answered with a small shrug. "He did most of the calculations, figuring out how to translate his mumbo-jumbo magic into equations and the like."  
  
Bruce looked properly impressed, which warmed Tony's heart for all of about three seconds because Rogers was talking again, like the arrogant prick he could be.  
  
"Stark, how do you know he didn't purposely sabotage the net?"  
  
"Uh, because i'm not the idiot you all seem to think I am. I ran through everything myself twice."  
  
That seemed to put everyone at a stand still, and Tony was about ready to explode at someone with all his untapped energy. He was so fucking angry with these people, so tired from this past month or so, and maybe a little angry at himself for letting the god slip through his fingers so damn easily.

 

 _No, there was no 'easy'._  
  
"It was me."  
  
Tony jerked his head up, so unused to the somberness of the voice he almost did not expect to find it coming from Thor.  
  
"It was you, what?"  
  
"I was the first to harm him," Thor answered, staring at Tony with miserable eyes.  
  
Tony just blinked back at him and tried to form a rational reply that wasn't a string of swear words. Remember, Thor was the god of thunder, he too, can throw you out a window, and oh yeah, you kind of have a thing with his adopted brother. Keep it nice.  
  
"Of _course_ it was you," he drawled, "you've got a talent for jumping on the train way too soon. Hey Thor, do you trust your brother?" Tony's voice changed to his best impression of the Thunder god's. "' _I do trust my brother! He needs help, not threat_ s' or some shit like that. Uh huh, remember what I said about hypocrites? Well, you're their king, Thor. Congrats, I'll make you a crown."

 

 _So much for nice._  
  
"Tony, lashing out at us is not going to bring him back," Natasha reminded, her face oddly compassionate which probably meant she knew how much Loki meant to him already and shit, someone's been paying more attention than he expected, or wanted.  
  
He covered up his nervousness with a grin and shot back, "No, but you guys _deserve_ it and it's making me feel better."  
  
Steve made something like a tutting sound that almost sent Tony over the thin line between raging-pissed off and homicidal. "Like I said, Stark, what's done is done and we have a possible global threat hanging over out heads. These guys mean business, and if what you told us is true, they want something from you and Loki."  
  
"I'm pretty sure all they want from Loki is pain and torture, so i'm not exactly sure who trumps who on the importance scale. It depends on what matters more to them, my tech, or Loki's blood.” He grimaced and gave another sharp shrug that was not the least nonchalant. “Anyway, we have no idea where he is, for all we know he's already been picked back up by them while we sit here and talk about how that's all your fault."  
  
"They haven't." Bruce said, shaking his head and pulling out a tablet. "There haven't been any anomalies since you guys got back."  
  
"You _charted_ it?" Tony breathed, unable to hold back his excitement. “That means—that was—this is—how?!”

Stealing the tablet from the scientist's hands, Tony gave it a quick look over and whistled. "I could kiss you, Bruce, look at that. Oh fuck, it's _beautiful_."  
  
While Bruce was chuckling that adorable shy chuckle of his, Clint muttered something like, "nerds," and shuffled out of the room with Natasha by his side. It seemed to signal the end of their meeting, because Rogers followed suit pretty quickly. Thor, however, lingered behind and Tony had a feeling it wasn't because he was excited about tracking magic. Tony ignored him, because he was still pissed and Bruce just tracked fucking _magic_.  
  
"If this... I mean..." Tony glanced up guiltily and muttered, "I could find him with this."  
  
"I know," Bruce replied with a smile. "Why do you think I showed it to you, or, actually, graciously allowed you to steal if from my hands. It needs some fine tuning to register something less powerful than an entire _hole_ being ripped through space and time, but I think you can do it."  
  
"You don't mind me bastardizing your science to find our 'evil' companion?"  
  
"I don't mind you improving on my work to find your boyfriend."  
  
Tony choked, "b-boyfriend?! No, _no_. Nonono, nope, nada. Nay. No... wait, is _that_ what that is?"  
  
"From what I've seen from you guys roaming around the tower, I would say so."  
  
Tony cast a quick glance at Thor and hoped, for the moment, the god didn't understand the word 'boyfriend'. It wasn't a great time to break the news to Thor, unless he already got it, which was mortifying and they were _so_ not having that conversation either way. "Okay,” he grumbled to Bruce, “boyfriend, then. But it's not like, romantic or anything. Just uuh... possiblysomedaysex and science, and magic..."  
  
 _And cooking together and waking each other up from nightmares and—god forbid—snuggling and sharing music and laughing at everyone else and holy shit maybe it was a romance. Since when did Tony voluntarily abstain from sex when there was such a delicious specimen sleeping in his damn bed, for Christ sake? Maybe he did actually looovvvvoooohno..._ _  
_  
"Shit."  
  
"Yeah," Bruce agreed quietly, taking the tablet back from Tony's limp hand. "I'm pretty sure it's a relationship, in whatever messed up way you guys managed that."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"Tony, it's not the end of the world."  
  
"Oh _shit_..."  
  
Bruce flicked his cheek, jerking Tony out of his endless loop enough to earn him a scowl. "Ow, jerk, I was reeling here. Let me reel."  
  
"No time for reeling, revel in your awe at that thing called feelings when you've found him." Bruce gave him another smile, and really, Tony owed him a car or something. Did Bruce even drive? Maybe a new lab, Bruce could always use a bigger mass spectrometer.   
  
"Okay," Tony conceded, shaking his head a little and trying to focus. "Okay, I'll get down to my lab... okay, no, lab is no longer there, according to you guys, so, your lab?"  
  
"Sure, but Tony, take the night off. You're pretty banged up and i'm no even sure how long it's been for you over here with all this time displacement stuff, but you look exhausted."  
  
Tony shrugged and pretended to agree that he would take a night off when both of them knew he wouldn't, and finally managed to scare Bruce away by making a kissy face at him until he left. Thor, the great bulk, was still standing at the edge of the room like an unmoving statue. It was tempting, to just ignore him and walk out, but they were going to have to talk sooner than later, and Tony was going to be busy later.  
  
"You're an idiot."  
  
"I..." Thor looked down. "I know."  
  
"Good, because if you had denied that right now, you're not worth my time, and I would never talk to you again."  
  
Thor lifted his head and shared a wane smile before as he moved closer to abuse a folding chair by sitting his god-like mass upon it. At this point, Tony wasn't sure if he was the one who was supposed to keep talking, or if it was Thor's turn to share. After another minute of awkward silence, Tony decided to take up the mantel, as usual.  
  
"Look, I know you have trust issues, we all do, it's understandable, and this is also Loki we're talking about here, so it's twice as understandable. But if there's one thing he's made painfully clear this past month, it's that he trusts us in some tiny, itty-bitty, minuscule way and you didn't see how fucking _important_ that was."  
  
Thor shook his head, fingers plucking at the leather thong wrapped around his wrist as he stared at nothing. "I did feel some sort of... bond forming once more, but I suspected it was entirely on my part, as it was before. I am often confusing his temper and words to mean something more, seeing things that are not truly there. I should know his smiles hold no love for me, when we have not been in a friendly way in quite some time." Thor pulled on the leather harder, not rising his head as he continued, "You didn't see him when he returned to Asgard, you could never understand what it was like to see him here during the battle after I had thought him dead." He met Tony's eye at last, and Tony knew he was right. He would never understand how that felt. Betrayal was one thing, but to lose someone like that, to think they were dead and then suddenly find out they're not in the worst fucking way. That they're off killing the people you swore to protect and they sure as hell don't want to go home, oh, _and_ they're crazy as shit and apparently hate you. Yeah, no, Tony couldn't say he had the pleasure of experiencing that, yet.  
  
"I know... it's hard, especially with Loki. He's not exactly apologetic for anything, even if he might feel some level of guilt." Tony paused and amended quickly, "okay, maybe not guilt, but something. Maybe regret for ever starting that whole thing, probably more like disappointment in himself for losing and... god, i'm so _fucked up_."  
  
Thor blinked at him. "Pardon?"  
  
"I'm so...” He trailed off, mouth working soundlessly for a moment as his mind raced. “I mean, he killed people, a lot of people, probably less than i'm responsible for if you're counting, but you shouldn't because I didn't know what I was doing, well a _little_ bit, well, okay, but that's something completely different and does he feel _regret_ for it? Does he even understand what he did here, what he caused for this country, or hell, even me? I was dead for a second there, Thor, I _died_ because of him _._ What am I even doing with... this... is this _wrong_?"

 

Thor did not seem to have an answer for him, and that was fine. Any analyzation from Thor in regards to his... thing with Loki was not welcome. Anymore interference from anyone was not welcome. He needed to figure this out on his own, if he was actually heading into 'relationship' territory.   
  
But really, everyone was saying it. That it was wrong and sick, that he was too forgiving, that he was 'fraternizing with the enemy.' And they weren't too far off in the end, because he was taking those people's deaths and stomping right over them into Loki's arms. Did he feel guilty about it? Hell yes he did, in odd moments when he actually thought about it, when he remembered flying through the Leviathan or falling through fucking space. But was he going to stop?

 

Probably not... wait, fuck no, he was _not_. He needed this, and Loki made it clear as day—he actually said it out loud in front of two witnesses—that he needed Tony. Running away from this for a bunch of dead people who don't even care was not going to help anyone.  
  
Tony pulled at his hair and let out an explosive sigh. "Alright, fine... It's fine. We're all fine. At least he didn't kill Coulson..."  
  
Thor's eyes snapped open wide and he bellowed,"SON OF COUL LIVES?!"  
  
"Yeah, duh, he's..." Tony froze with realization that his stupid mouth just did that thing again where it moved before he thought. "Oh, shit..."  
  
  
"You _will_ explain everything." Thor's expression was dark, as if it was Tony's damn fault he was lied to, and Tony couldn't help but wonder if maybe Loki had the right idea about running away. Why did these people always blame them for everything?

 

Tony shifted on his uncomfortable cot and gave his hair another pull before he began the explanation that should have come from one bald-ass, eye-patch-wearing, mother fucker instead of him.

 

Maybe he and Loki should have eloped together, after all. All he had to do now was find the god before someone else did.  
  


* * *

  
  
The first thing he did was change his appearance to something less offending. An older man, graying dark hair tied back in a knot, suit new but not eye-catching, and in hand, a black and silver cane. His eyes stayed green, as they almost always did when he changed. Perhaps he was selfish, but sometimes he needed something to remind himself that he was Loki, and none other.  
  
Dark glasses did the trick, lest anyone grow curious as to how someone so old had such young eyes, and Loki strode down the busy sidewalk as if he belonged there. Shoulders brushed past him, conversations flew in one ear and out the other, and a man's fingers were slipping into Loki's pocket, looking for currency. The yelp from burned fingers made Loki smile as he brushed on by without further punishment, even if he would otherwise hound the man till he screamed for his mother. But, for all his illusions, he did _not_ belong here. In fact, he no longer had anywhere to belong. He had lost yet another place he had managed to almost call home, even if was for such a short time.  
  
Loki smiled bitterly to himself, remembering Anthony's expression when he first arrived to rescue him. The oddity of his delusions would amuse him for a long time. To think, that the mortal had though him a mere illusion? Loki chuckled to himself until the reality of it struck the humor from him. Anthony had dreamed of him during his capture, just as Loki had thought of the inventor, himself. How was it that, not even a day had passed and he was already aching to return to him? His home. His Anthony.  
  
No, not 'his'. He owned nothing, something he should have remembered before growing fat with comfort in that tower. He should have left the second he was healed, but, then again, would he ever be fully healed? His wounds were nothing but faint scars now, and would soon be gone entirely. But what of his mind?  
  
Loki froze, and doing so in the middle of a New York sidewalk elected several sharp exclamations. But he could not care, not even for the rough shoves and curses of those around him.  
  
He was in grave danger here. Not right in this moment, but any second that could change. What if he had another fit, right here in broad daylight while surrounded by unfriendly faces? He would be vulnerable to even these mere humans, and worse yet, those creatures could still return for him.  
  
Loki's heart sank even further when he realized he would not be able to sleep tonight, perhaps ever again. He had trouble even after his return to Asgard, albeit, that was mostly due to the torturous accommodations. He never slept well in The Room. Too hot, too much pain, too dark. But even in the room that was only five steps away from Anthony's own, he did not sleep like he should. But in Anthony's room, he slept deeply more often than not. Even more so in those few short days when he found himself tucked against the inventor's warm body.  
  
How was he to survive this? Perhaps he should break his vow and return to the tower with his tail between his legs. After all, he had not properly completed the pact that would keep him from the place. But his promise should be kept, his pride must remain strong, and he would never return there.  
  
 _Unless Anthony asks me to. I may be inclined to accept his invitation, if nothing else._  
  
Not that that would happen, not anymore. Any man could see what Loki was after everything that had happened, worthless but for the trouble he wrought upon all those around him. Trouble to any he found even remotely precious. Staying there would only bring danger to his door, and if Loki was nothing else, he was not _that_ unkind. He cared too much for that man to allow himself the luxury of his company with the knowledge that he nearly caused his death, and could very well bring it upon him again.  
  
No. His time with Anthony had come to an end, as he predicted, as he should have known. This was just another step on his long journey. He would forget that warmth, those smiles, that clever mind that had him guessing, had him wondering and perhaps hoping for something akin to love. Someday, he would forget all that.

 

Perhaps not today.  
  
Humming that song that both hurt and soothed him at the same time, Loki finally rejoined the steam of people, and disappeared into chaos that was New York.  
 _  
_ _I'm like evil I get under your skin_ _  
_ _Just like a bomb that's ready to blow._  
  
  



	13. All I Ever Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki is found. Twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not betad, as usual. :V

 

 

 

 

' _Lost cat. Black fur, green eyes, has a gold collar with no tags. Quiet, scared of heights, likes men with beards. $1,000 reward if returned by tomorrow.'_  

 

"You can't be serious." 

 

"I can," Tony confirmed, and batted the offending paper away from his face. "Of course you read all the lost animal advertisements, I should have known you were that big of a sentimental do-gooder."

 

Steve huffed irritably, but it was without the usual intensity of anger they had suffered through the past few weeks. It seemed that Tony's cold—and silent—treatment did the job in taming the wild fires of Justice. He would have to use this 'silence' tool more often, it worked wonders. 

 

"I'm not saying don't look for him," Steve carried on without any comment on Tony's usual insults, "and I know our reasons for wanting to find him are different, but did you really think Loki would waltz back in here because you placed a lost animal ad?" 

 

"I wasn't thinking he would 'waltz', maybe swing in?" Tony looked at him thoughtfully. "Or maybe that new thing—twerking—yes, I was expecting Loki to twerk his way home." 

 

Steve looked as though he got the joke, mostly, but was seriously considering investigating this 'Twerk'. If only to supply his artistic side of his brain with a better mental image. Tony snorted as the blonde's face blatantly showed every gear turning, and calmly went back to his coffee. 

 

"You can't keep doing this, Tony."

 

"I can," he confirmed again, and this time he sounded less sure.  

 

* * *

 

Another three weeks later, when Steve had taken up crafting and started cutting out each ad and putting them up on the fridge, things went back to awkward pretty quickly. Tony walked by them every morning and tried not to show how each unanswered ad made him want to scream and cry like a little girl, because that wasn't Steve's intention, obviously, and for once Tony didn't feel like being unfair. So he walked by, felt empty inside, and smiled maybe just a little too widely for it to be sincere. No one seemed to notice or comment on it and the only one who might have said something had run back to Asgard to report to his father. 

 

Thor had promised to keep Coulson's undeath a secret from the others until Tony had cleared it with Fury, but he had made sure to express his complete disappointment with SHIELD as loudly as possible over a few million drinks. 

 

Tony hated to admit it, but he missed the guy. They might have had very little in common life-style wise—unless you include the love of a good drink, being princes or the equivalent of, and maybe how they both cared about Loki in their own fucked up ways and isn't that special? Maybe they were more alike than he thought. 

 

It was kind of hard not having the only other guy around who liked Loki enough to listen when Tony talked about him, which was probably too much, and told his own stories about the dark-haired bastard. Tony reminded himself to ask Loki about some of those epics when he came back.  _If_  he came back. 

 

 But now, it was just the spies and Rogers left up stairs, so Tony kept his distance, lest anyone insult the guy he cared about—not loved—to his face, yet again. There was a high chance of him snapping and blowing a hole through some furniture. 

 

Thankfully, he found Bruce setting up another test for the MDF, 'Magic Detection Field', (so creative) and Tony brought him his usual tea with his now-usual silence. He carried it around him like a shield, or a blanket, and no one could break past it yet. Of course he communicated with Bruce, at least enough to get work done and not blow them both up thanks to mismatching calculations. But other than that, he was quiet and he really didn't care how upset that seemed to make everyone. Fuck them, they deserved a little discomfort, it was a lenient punishment as far as Tony was concerned.

 

"You're doing it again."

 

Tony jerked his head up and narrowed his eyes at Bruce.

 

"You're making that weird growling noise," he provided, smiling ruefully at him. 

 

"Sorry, I didn't even know I was... doing that. Growling?"

 

"Sort of rumbling, or muttering dark curses or something."

 

"Probably the latter."

 

"Then you will be providing us with the magic trick today?" 

 

Tony let out a sharp laugh, not bothering to attempt anything close to his full strain of humor. Bruce just smiled, because he was used to it already and had never been one to ask stupid questions like, 'are you okay?'

 

_Are you sure you're okay?_

 

In the end, he did provide the magic by way of a certain scepter, on loan begrudgingly from SHIELD with the intent of gaining Tony and Bruce's new tech when they were done. He had been the only one to physically handle it since Loki had been captured and shipped back to Asgard, with Bruce refusing to handle the thing himself. It also seemed to resonate with him, which was both disturbing and kind of flattering at the same time. 

 

"Ready?" Tony inquired, holding the staff in one hand as the blade just brushed the skin of the test subject. 

 

"Warming up and... three... two... one, fire!" 

 

Tony jerked his hand back, shivering slightly as the wave of energy shot out the other end and promptly struck a potato. As usual, the potato exploded, and as usual usual, Tony felt another massive wave of nausea. He stumbled, one hand darting out to catch himself as he fell to one knee.

 

"Tony?" 

 

"It's fine... check the readings," he gritted out, staying as still as the spinning world would allow. He would like to get off this ride now, thank you very much. 

 

Somewhere beyond all the screens Bruce let out a telling sigh, and Tony sagged a little more.

 

"Just like the last seven times, detection is live only, and we still can't seem to record any of the data." Bruce muttered something and then added louder, "maybe it's a storage difficulty?" 

 

"JARVIS has an infinite storage space." 

 

"I'm talking about the type of storage, not the space. Although, if you look at the initial reading when we run the test, the energy spike goes off the screen." 

 

Tony rose to his feet with a groan, casting a quick glare at Bruce, daring him to comment. Bruce carefully ignored any and all sounds coming from him as he limped across the room to peer over his shoulder. 

 

"There's only so many ways we can store the data and have it accessible," he reminded, and smirked when he saw that Bruce had basically taken a screen shot of the energy spike. "That works, sort of horribly, but at least now I can actually see it." 

 

"I thought you might like that. See this here?" Bruce's finger ran along a base line that fluctuated only after the larger spike of energy dissipated. "I'm thinking that's what we need to trace, rather than the explosion." 

 

"What is it?" Tony asked, leaning closer to the screen. "It acts almost like... radiation. Oh... Oh!" 

 

Bruce was grinning at him now, looking very pleased with himself, as he should. Tony clapped his hands and ruffled Bruce's hair in a way he knew he hated, but endured for Tony's sake. Or maybe it was a part of the whole, "I'm always angry but look how I'm not killing you," thing.

 

"Radiation lingers, traceable, unique, fucking hell this is perfect. You are a genius, like you don't already know." 

 

"Still nice to hear," Bruce hummed pleasantly. "Now we just have to change pretty much everything we've been doing."

 

"We've got time, let's get started."

 

"Tony... you need to sleep sometime." 

 

"No I don't."

 

"Yes you do. When was the last time you actually slept through the night?" 

 

Tony's smile slipped a little, just a twitch, but he answered in a light hearted tone that held all the undertones of ' _don't fucking go there_.' 

 

"No idea, so should we start with gamma and go from there?" 

 

Bruce studied him with a deep frown, only giving up after a painfully long minute where Tony might have been pleading with his eyes for the scientist to drop it. He knew the last time he slept the entire night, as did everyone else who saw him working in the lab or his workshop or lurking in the kitchen with another cup of coffee. 

 

"Fine," Bruce conceded, "let's start with what we know."

 

Tony smiled with a little more honesty, put the scepter back on its stand, and went to make himself yet another cup of coffee. 

 

The counter of the kitchenette was unforgiving when Tony's knees gave out, sending him head first into the marble. He was almost quick enough to take most of the blow with an arm, but he still ended up on the floor with little cartoon stars floating around his head. Maybe he did need sleep, maybe he should stop using the scepter. 

 

Maybe he just needed Loki.

 

No, he  _knew_  he needed Loki, even if he was never going to admit that out loud. Because he hadn't slept in weeks, because he couldn't sleep, because Loki was no longer staring at him from the bed with the same sort of need in his eyes. Because he wasn't curled up in his arms like a  leggy space heater, complete with nightmare-chasing kisses and pretty green eyes. 

 

Tony found it in himself to laugh at the sentiment the god would definitely scoff at, still sprawled out on the floor with blurry vision and a raging headache now. It was funny how you didn't realize what you had until it was gone. Actually, it wasn't funny at all, it fucking sucked and Tony would rather have Obadiah rip out his reactor ten times over than lose whatever this was with Loki again. This thing, this not-a-relationship thing that made him actually better than he was without said thing. How was that even possible? How was it that Loki in his kitchen in the morning, making his weird breakfast and talking about the correlation between Elephant's subsonic calls and the static of the universe and almost making perfect sense... god dammit,  _how_  did something as simple as his presence become Tony's rock, the only thing that kept him from coming completely fucking unraveled? 

 

_Karma is a god damn bitch._

 

He hardly had time to register the footsteps before Bruce's voice drifted through the doorway. "Tony, you're taking forever with the—shit! What happened?!" 

 

"I hadah-conversation with gravity," he slurred, "we don' get along." 

 

Bruce knelt by his head and carefully started running his fingers over his forehead. When Tony winced, he pulled back and stared down at him with a strange expression. Or maybe it was just the blurriness. 

 

"Tony, I know you hate relying on... anyone, but can you at least try to let me do something for you?" 

 

"I rely on people," Tony argued, "that's all I do." 

 

"Said no one ever," Bruce shot back, his brow pinching together in worry or anger, maybe. "The only person I've ever seen you actually lean on is Loki, and since he's not here—don't glare, it's a reality you need to accept—since he's not here, lean on us a little."

 

Tony opened his mouth to argue some more, and Bruce shut him up with what was definitely a glare now.

 

"You're going to go to bed. Now. And I'm going to give you something to help you sleep, and you're not going to move for at least nine hours, and any argument from you will be catalogued and sent to Hulk for analyst. Got it?" 

 

Tony actually giggled at this and allowed Bruce to pull him up by his arm. "I like it when you threaten me, much sexier than letting things slide." 

 

"Yeah, because I was trying to be sexy by getting you to sleep."

 

"I knew there was a reason you wanted me in bed," Tony teased, flashing a lop-sided grin at the man now half carrying him.

 

"Forget Hulk, I'm tattling to Loki now." 

 

"You wouldn't, you guys don't even go near each other." 

 

"I'll leave him a note."

 

For some reason, that cracked Tony up so hard he had to lean a little heavier against Bruce. It also made him laugh so hard his eyes teared up. Somehow, it was so funny Tony started sobbing uncontrollably and had to cover his face with his hand to hide behind it. 

 

"Come on," Bruce said gently, and Tony forgot where he was going for a while. 

 

His blankets were cold, but he didn't have the energy to complain and just thinking about it reminded him of why he was still crying in little hiccups. His ceiling looked alien to him, not that he had long to look at it before Bruce turned off the lights. 

 

"... no, leave them on." 

 

Bruce flicked the switch back on, and said from the doorway, "Okay, Tony, it's okay." 

 

"Yeah..." he whispered as the door closed with a click.

 

_It's really not._

 

* * *

 

' _Missing cat, really missing cat. Black fur, sharp claws, probably poops gold. $2,000 reward and I'll throw in a kiss for free. Just come home_.' 

 

Loki looked it over again, and wondered how others felt when they read these advertisements. Did anyone call the number provided? 

 

He had saved every single one since the first morning he noticed them, and now had a stack of them tucked away in his demential pocket. Sometimes he pulled them out a night to read while he lay on his uncomfortable bed in his uncomfortable apartment. Loki was forced to stay in the dingy side of town, to avoid detection. He had never gone through with his initial plan of appropriating an upper-class apartment, thanks to the small voice in the back of his head that reminded him that Anthony would have ways of tracking such information and would more likely find him. Obviously the man was no where near finding him if he had stooped to such low levels of contact. Loki, himself, had considered putting in a response in the advertisements several times, but something stopped him. Not the contract with the Avengers, it was never sealed in the first place, but the memory of Stark's blood on his hands kept him away. 

 

  
_He_  had done that, he was the reason those torturous bastards got their nasty little hands on the inventor, and Loki was the reason Stark as gotten hurt. There was no going back and no contact either.

 

Still, he could hope, perhaps a little, that maybe the man would find him anyway. Loki tucked his lower lip between his teeth and read the latest one over again.

 

' _Just come home_.'

 

Anthony called it 'home', a home for Loki. Did he realize how important that was, or was it simply another throw-away phrase like the promise of money as a reward? No one would be paid, clearly, it was only a means to contact Loki, to gain his attention. 

 

He smoothed the clipping out, fingers toying with the thin paper's edge before he sat up and quickly hid it away. Perhaps it was time for a change, staying stagnant was not fitting for a God of chaos. It had been well over a month since he had seen the man, perhaps he could show proof of life. If only to ease Anthony's obviously troubled mind. 

 

Only for that.

 

Loki smiled for the fist time in weeks, pulled out a pen and paper, and began to draft his advertisement. 

 

* * *

 

Tony had really not been expecting it, really, extremely not expecting it. At all. But there it was, tucked away three ads down from his own, under some poor sob story about a lost puppy in the park. 

 

' _Seeking the return of beautiful red bird. One of a kind, highly valued, likes men with dark hair. Will compensate generously if found. If not, I can only hope he has found a good home_.' 

 

There was a strangled choking noise that Tony quickly realized was coming from him, and he looked around at the confused faces of the team before bolting from the breakfast table. Shouts followed him down the hallway, but as soon as he reached his floor he locked it down, scrambled into his room, locked that door too, and crumpled to the floor. 

 

"You're alive, you bastard. Jesus..." 

 

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face and closed his eyes for a minute. He should have known when there were no major spikes on the radar, but he couldn't help but wonder and worry. Thankfully his and Bruce's tech was right, and there it was right there, proof that Loki was okay, speaking to him, even.

 

Tony opened his eyes to read it again, trying to pick out any hidden meanings, perhaps a code to tell him where the god was.

 

  
_'I can only hope he has found a good home_?' 

 

That didn't sound like Tony's ads, where he was clearly begging Loki to come back, embarrassingly enough. No, Loki's sounded more like, 'I'm good here, move on,' which was not what Tony expected or wanted to hear.

 

Tony read it seven more times before he realized his hands were shaking and that explained why the words were all blurry. That and the tears welling up in his eyes, which just pissed him off because, come on, it's not that big of a deal. But his heart said otherwise, and for the first time in over a month, Tony almost felt okay. Even if he was so close to crying like a baby. It was amazing what a few words in size 3, Times New Roman could do to a man. 

 

"Sir," JARVIS began, "Doctor Banner wishes to express his concern over the 'inhuman sounds' you made before running away. What do you wish for me to say?" 

 

"Tell him..." Tony cleared his throat,"that I'm practicing my impersonations of Clint and plan on running away to join the circus and that he can have all my stuff once I've cleared the building." 

 

Tony had time to read it over twice more before JARVIS interrupted again. "He said, 'the impersonations need work and you will be useless in a circus. Get out here and face me like a man.'"

 

Tony laughed, silently thanking Bruce for being comfortable enough to joke about stupid stuff with him in the face of adversity, and also for helping him track down his stupid missing cat.  _Boyfriend_. God, he and Loki needed to have a talk.

 

"Alright, alright. Back to science it is," he muttered, pulling himself up off the floor and laying the newspaper out on his bed. He studied it for a long moment before he called out to JARVIS again, "before that, let's place another ad for tomorrow." 

 

"Of course sir, what would you like it to say?" 

 

 Tony smirked down at the newspaper, feeling almost giddy.

 

"Oh, I think I'll be blunt this time."

 

* * *

 

Loki laughed, really laughed. His head fell back against his newly acquired couch and laughed to the point of tears. Stark was a mad man, truly, there was no one quite like him. Oh how he was tempted to throw himself back into the lion's den, to appear in that man's bed right this very moment.

 

Loki's laugh died in his throat, but he continued to lean his head back, eyes tracing a crack on the ceiling. A mutter, a twist of the wrist, and it was gone. Perhaps it was a waste of his abilities, but he was not able to much else whilst keeping himself hidden. He had wards up, of course, but Loki knew well enough to never underestimate Stark. He had already made that mistake once before. 

 

Loki blinked and tipped his head up once more to look at the advertisement. Perhaps he was still underestimating the man, for he had not expected him to reach out so desperately. If it was shameful for Loki to reply, it must have been harder for Stark to attempt such a foolish thing to gain his attention in the first place. Still, it had worked, and Loki once again began to snicker. 

 

" _Cat still missing. Smooth voice, clearly has abandonment issues even though he's good at abandoning others. Pretty ears, pretty mouth. No whiskers. Don't ask. Reward: a warm bed and good conversation_." 

 

Foolish, really, but oddly charming in a way that made Loki want to both kiss the man, and sink a blade into his belly. 'Abandonment issues'? Hardly. He had long since accepted his place, or lack thereof, and implying that he felt nothing when leaving Stark was... infuriating. 

 

"... fool. There was nothing good nor easy about it," Loki whispered to the words before him. "But perhaps... you have persuaded me." 

 

"Oh? I have not yet begun my proposal to you."

 

Loki leapt up from the couch, firing off two small blasts of energy behind him before spinning round to face the owner of the voice. His shots had gone wide, leaving a nice set of scorch marks on his already dingy floor. There was a tinkle of laughter that sounded anythjng but pleasant, and Loki narrowed his eyes.

 

"Since when have you come here?"

 

"Why, Loki, you do not look pleased to see me," the woman purred, stepping around the couch with the click of her poison-green heels. "I wonder why that is."

 

"My reasons for never again wishing to lay my eyes on you could fill the sky," Loki sneered, matching her step, but backwards towards the window. He would not risk being discovered for something as simple as an escape, so a window would have to do. Hopefully his magic was strong enough to buffer the fall.

 

The woman stopped in front of the couch and pouted, her thick, blonde hair falling past her shoulders as she tilted her head at him. "Loki, you're being mean. It has been  _years_  since that ridiculous argument, really, you—"

 

"It was hardly what one would call an argument,  _hag_ ," he spit back, taking another step towards the window. "And I remember the feel of your magic well enough to know exactly who it was that helped the portal open in my cell on Asgard." 

 

The woman giggled again, her hands swinging by her side like a playful child, exuberant, happy, absolutely insane. Her laugh went on a little too long and rose to a sharp cackle that suited her much better. 

 

"What do you want from me, Amora?" 

 

"Oh Loki, silly Loki," she purred, fixing her eyes on him. "I've got business to conduct here, a little matter with a certain powerful mortal. What I want, is you back in your little  _room_  where you belong." 

 

An unconscious snarl escaped him, and he was suddenly aware of how desperate and fearful it sounded. He wasn't weak, not at all, but it had been a harsh spell he used to rescue Stark and he was still feeling the leak of magic from his core, that little gap where it bled out into the space between realms. It was part of the reason why he had not put up better wards, which, clearly, had been a dire mistake. 

 

_Wait... She has business with..._

 

 "What powerful mortal?" 

 

Amora hummed, tilting her head to the other side, and glanced down. Her eyes fell on the newspaper, still resting where Loki dropped it on the floor in his surprise. In a single, fluid movement, she scooped it up and ran her eyes over it. 

 

"Hmmm, I believe you know which one," she said at last, flashing a quick, knowing grin over the paper. 

 

"No."

 

"No? Loki, you must know who—"

 

"I know who it is, and my answer is ' _no_ '." 

 

"I wasn't asking, darling. I was telling."

 

"Prattle on all you want, but your business stays away from him." 

 

"Oh?" She chirped, dropping the paper and clicking her way closer again. "Or what? What is the big, bad, broken Loki going to do to  _me_?" 

 

"Kill you." He tapped his chin thoughtfully and added, "or leave you to Thor." 

 

"Don't you dare!" She screeched, jumping forward with her nails bared like claws. Loki easily sidestepped her lunge, smirking at how predictably easy she was to rile up. Amora, as always, was sensitive about Thor and if Loki had the time he would certainly enjoy taunting her more. But the risk was too great, with her connection to those creatures, and he was not willing to linger in her presence. He took another step to his right, bent his knees, and just as she turned to claw at him again, threw himself through the window. 

 

Glass rained down around him, some stronger shards already embedded in his shoulder and arm. For a split second he caught his reflection in one, and wondered if this is what it felt like when he threw Stark from his tower. Only, Stark had a suit to catch him, and Loki had—

 

He hit the piles of trash with a sickening crunch and a choked off scream. His world went white and then black before the angry shriek of a very displeased witch brought him back. He quickly removed himself from the dumpster, choking again—this time on the stench. 

 

"LOKI!" She screamed.

 

He hissed and launched himself down the alleyway, heading for the Main Street with hopes of blending in. But she was smarter than that, he knew so, and just as he reached the sidewalk, a thought came to him. With a wild laugh, Loki charged down the street, scattering people left and right until, suddenly, he was no more. The mortals blinked, and then went on their way as mortals do. By the time Amora reached the street, people had come and went, and Loki was no where to be seen.

 

* * *

 

"Tony, go to bed."

 

"Bruce, just one more trial and then—"

 

"Your nose is bleeding," Bruce pointed out dryly. "And I think your ears are too, God, okay, no more. Put the scepter down." 

 

"But—"

 

"Now," he growled, and that was not just Bruce there right now, wow. Tony complied right away, not because he was scared of the big guy, not really, but more because he knew how serious it was when Bruce and Hulk were in compromise over something. 

 

"Right, okay, going to bed." 

 

"Take the sleeping pills."

 

"Ja, Der Doktor." 

 

"I will dissect you," Bruce warned, eyes narrowed at him through the screens scattered between them. 

 

"In your dreams," Tony called back as he left the room. How he made it up to his floor and even to his bed, he had no idea. There was a 90% chance it was all sleep walking. But made it he did, and not bothering to remove his bloodied clothes—curtesy of nose and apparently ears—dropped onto his bed with a grunt. He was there for only a minute, his mind still winding down from the strange fluctuations the staff always gave him, when something touched. The side of his head. 

 

"Whaauvh?" He grunted, lifting his head and blinking sleepily at...  _was that a cat?_  

 

It was a cat. A black one, in fact. It was also sitting right there, staring at him with the greenest eyes Tony had ever seen. He stared back, the cat huffed, and Tony smiled so wide his jaw creaked. 

 

"Welcome home, Loki."


	14. It Comes With a Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's returned, but not all is well. For once, Loki's sort of kind of not actually to blame. 
> 
> Not that this stops him from taking the blame, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> un-betad

 

"Are you actually Loki?" He asked for the third time, and for the third time the cat narrowed his eyes at him and glared daggers. "Okay, yes, sorry. Only, I've sort of been hallucinating off and on... you know what, that's fine, real or not, hi." 

 

The cat—Loki, shifted a little closer and tilted his head to the side in a way that was far too cute for the person hiding inside that little fuzzy body. 

 

_Don't say it, don't say it, don't say, 'cute'._

 

"So, uh..." Tony murmured, trying to rub the tired out of his eyes. It wasn’t working. "You gonna stay a cat, then?" 

 

Loki nodded and flicked his tail.

 

"Why? Wait, yes or no questions, right. Are you a cat because of the contract? Like, you couldn't come back as—no? Okay, so are you going to change back?" 

 

The cat meowed, shook his head, and hunkered down in a way that said, 'I'm here to stay', which was both worrying because, cat, and a little heart-warming because, _Loki_. Staying was good, staying was something Tony had subconsciously wanted for a while now, and only recently become hyper aware of thanks to the lack of said god. Staying as a cat? That was complicated and maybe toeing the line of kinks Tony wasn’t actually into.

 

"Alright, so you're a cat for a reason," he posed to him, which earned him a other nod. "Are you... is this how your hiding from them?" 

 

Nod, tail twitch, narrowed eyes.

 

"Is it working?"

 

The cat went still and stared at him for a long moment. 

 

"Okaaay, so you have no idea if this is working or not and how is being a cat practical? I mean, you're adorable and there's the chance that it's actually hiding your magic whatever from whoever but it's leaving you vulnerable in more ways than one. For one thing, you can’t even communicate with me, how’s that helping?” 

 

The Loki cat was looking more irritated now, so Tony quickly added, "not that I'm not happy to see you, I am, of course, but it's kind of weird and a little ironic. We were just about to track you down, give or take a few days." 

 

That seemed to pique his interest enough to risk his life, apparently, and before Tony could even blink, the god was sitting before him in all his bloody glory. 

 

"Jesus!" Tony yelped, hands automatically reaching out to help him. Loki hissed and drew back instantly, his eyes red-rimmed, his lips raw and cracked. He looked tired, almost as tired as Tony felt, and maybe a little underfed. "Loki, what happened?" 

 

"What did you mean you were about to track me? Who is this ‘we’?”

 

"Can we talk about the bleeding and—"

 

Loki interrupted sharply, " _How_ did you mean to track me?" 

 

So he wasn’t actually sure he should answer that, plus, _bleeding_ , but Loki’s eyes were scarier than usual, so he gave in grudgingly. 

 

”We figured out a thing—or, actually, Bruce did and I modified our network we set up back when you were running around Germany stealing eyes. The one tracking the Tesseract?” 

Loki’s eyes got even scarier. “Right, you remember that, so anyway, now it tracks magic, or parts of it and it's really too complicated to explain when I'm this tired. We were going to do a live trial tomorrow, until you showed up as a cat, so now I guess we can call it off. Or, you know, do it anyway. The more you know.” 

 

He shrugged and gave a weak laugh, not liking the tension in the air. What happened to the cute cat again? Oh, right, he told Loki to change back. Good move. 

 

"How could you even procure such a thing? What information did you have to feed it?" 

 

Tony blinked at him, and even in his sleep deprived mind he knew he needed to tread carefully here. "Uh... we ran tests on magic."

 

Now Loki was tapping a finger against his arm, his entire body radiating impatience. "I was not aware any ofyour mortals possessed the ability to control the magics." 

 

"Well... we kind of, sort of, don’t. There’s some people out there, call themselves mutants, they kind of have the closest thing to what you call magic, I guess. Not that it’s really the same, actually,” Tony stalled, hating the way Loki had grown cold and suspicious. "Okay, so we might have borrowed your scepter thing from SHIELD to test the tracker." 

 

The silence that greeted him after he spoke was like a slap to the face. Especially the way Loki was staring at him as though he wasn't even real. 

 

"You. Did. _What_?" 

 

"Look, I know it's your spear—"

 

"That is no object of mine!" Loki shrieked suddenly, looking ready to rip Tony's head off and run through the tower showing in his blood, and yes, Tony feeling dramatic, he was tired, dammit. But this was the most intense thing that had happened to him in weeks, the combination of Loki returning and also maybe, kind of screaming at him. 

Tony tensed up, waiting for the blow he was sure was about to come, when god went very still. With eyes seeming to focus on Tony for the first time since he arrived, Tony could see the way he was categorizing everything he saw, the dried blood in both his nose and—still not sure—but maybe his ears, if he believed Bruce. Maybe Loki was noticing the way he was hunched over, probably the dark shadows under his eyes, too. He was pretty self aware when he got this bad, mostly because everything hurt and there was a mirror in the hallway that had made him jump about a foot in the air on passing. He looked so bad actually managed to scare himself.

 

 "... you have been using it?" 

 

"Er, yes. Bruce wouldn't touch it." 

 

Long, pale fingers gripped his arm painfully, startling Tony back into full-awake mode and there was the yelling again.

 

 "You fool! How many times? What did you _do_?" 

 

Tony tried not to wince, really not liking the whole yelling and grabbing thing. Also the 'fool' part, that brought back bad memories from a certain someone he looked up, and he was way too exhausted to fight this off right now. All he could manage was a wide eyed state at Loki while he tried to formulate a proper sentence. 

 

"We—I used it... I think 13 times?" 

 

"You utter moron!" 

 

_Am I? Was I wrong?_

 

Yep, there went his heart doing that clenchy thing that he once thought was a heart attack, but had since then realized it was almost something worse. Great timing, because he really wanted to lose control over himself in front of Loki while the god was telling him how stupid and weak he was. Because panicking was cool and ‘with-it’. 

 

It didn't matter that Loki had done the same in front of him many times already, or that he often helped Tony out of nightmares that often left him in tears. This was different, this was showing some extreme vulnerability due to Loki himself, this time. 

 

No, He was going to fight this thing with all his heart. Well, with whatever he could muster between the ragged breathing and those delightful palpitations that were starting up. 

 

"I—was—didn't... I was desperate!" He wheezed, trying to pull out of Loki's grip. But the god would not relent, and if anything, his grip grew stronger. "P-please let... go."

 

"You have no _idea_ what you have done," Loki hissed, clearly not listening to a word Tony had said. His eyes darted around the room as if whatever Tony had done would manifest in some physical form right there next to his closet or something."Each and every time you used that thing, you drew his attention to you. To you..." he trailed off and looked at Tony once again. His breath caught when he finally noticed the way Tony was panting, or maybe it was the shaking, or the way his eyelids fluttered closed as he started to hyperventilate. "Anthony? Anthony!" 

 

"God, d-don't yell, don't," he choked out, and finally yanked himself free of Loki's hands. It was probably useless, but he pressed his own against the reactor, trying to find some way to stop that roar in his chest. For a moment, all he could hear were his gasps and the heavy silence that pressed down on him like the darkness of the void. 

 

Through the portal. 

 

_Oh god, the pressure from the portal, the way his suit faltered,_

_he died, he's dead._

_He's dead,_

_there's nothing there, no one answered._

_There's nothing..._

 

" _Þegar ég var ungur, bara strákur Ég ferðaðist víða_ ,” came a voice at last, Loki’s fingers just brushing the back of his hands. His hands that had, apparently, found their way back to clutching to Loki during his sort black out. Thankfully there was no more pulling at him or shaking his body, or reminding him how stupid and useless he was. Just gentle brushes against his worn knuckles, and the song. 

 

 

" _Away fór ég, og svo glaður_

_Ég myndi fylgja fjöru._

_Til langt burt höf, að þar út jörðum_

_Ég miða að finna leið mína._

_Til að byggja upp heimili með eigin höndum mínum_

_Ég mun skila daginn._

 

_Nú er ég orðinn gamall, slitinn og grár_

_Ég ferðast gamall vegur hægur._

_Til heima ég vildi að ég myndi halda_

_Slóðin raveled til og fro._

_Til þess staðar sem ég kom frá, langt frá mér_

_Ég óska eftir að finna leið mína._

_Til lands á sem fjarlægum sjó_

_Ég mun skila daginn._ "

 

Then, it was over and Tony blinked. He was fine, more than fine, he was breathing and not dying and Loki was sitting there looking absolutely—

 

“Beautiful,” he breathed, not caring how he sounded anymore or the fact that Loki was the reason he panicked in the first place. Songs, apparently, were accepted as apologies.

 

Loki smiled one of his rare and shy smiles and ducked his head before replying, "it's a song I wrote to keep myself sane in the Room."

 

"You wrote that?" 

 

"Well, there was little actual writing done, but yes, it is mine." 

 

"What does it mean? The words, what—"

 

A finger pressed against Tony's lips, startling him into silence. "No more questions," Loki whispered, "it has been too long since I have slept and I am sure it is the same for you." 

 

Tony nodded, but dared a small kiss on the finger because, well, it was there. Loki chuckled fondly, something Tony had just been getting used to before he disappeared and something he had no idea how much he missed until just now. That could be said about pretty much everything to do with Loki, actually. So Tony did what the bloody god suggested, laying down with opened arms for Loki to crawl into.

 

Looking thankful, Loki stretched out next to him and pulled Tony into a tight embrace. It felt like he was being held together, or doing the holding together. Probably both, if Tony understood their relationship accurately. 

 

_You love him._

 

Tony shuddered a little, shutting down the Bruce-sounding part of his brain for a while. He needed sleep, he could figure all that shit later when things weren't so weird and bloody and confusing.

 

"You're not going to let me help you, are you?" He whispered, pressing his face into the god's chest. 

 

He was answered with a low, rumble of laughter and a kiss to his forehead. It was enough, if Loki was laughing, to reassure him that he wasn't going to wake up to a dead possibly-boyfriend in the morning, and Tony fell asleep with a few less worries and a lot more questions. 

 

* * *

 

 

Silence. 

 

It was startling even after only a few weeks spent in the noise of the city. Being high above the streets, the arguing at all times of night, and even the random screams was both a blessing and a curse. Because, as peaceful as it should be, it was the first time in a while that Loki was scared that it had been the silence of the Room, again, and he nearly cried out just to shatter the spell. Instead, he forced himself to focus on all the things that proved it was _not_ the Room, like the warmth wrapped around him or the small sounds that finally reached his ears through the haze of sleep. Breathing, each breath drawn in with a slight hitch to it, as though there was never enough air, as though it hurt. And somewhere close by, Loki could just pick up the gentle thud of a heartbeat, no hiccups, there. Just the strong, steady beat of life. 

 

It was enough, he was happily convinced that this wasn’t one of his dreams, and opened his eyes. 

 

"There you are," Anthony marveled in a rough voice, and the heat drew closer and closer until lips met his. Apparently the mortal had already been awake, and _watching_ Loki sleep. The nerve of him.

 

Loki hummed into the kiss, and took pleasure in the sounds he received when he bite down on those lips.

 

 Just barely pulling away, he replied, “Yes, I’m still here." 

 

"You have no idea how good that feels to know that," the man admitted between a few more short, playful kisses. Now his lips were being assaulted with nips and bites.

 

"I think I just might.”

 

_Ah, that look. What was that look?_

 

 It was strange, unfamiliar to him but almost… something akin to a warmth he saw in his mother's eyes all those years ago. He could not stop his mood from darkening at the memories crawling back into his mind. The fact that he had been forgotten, as though he truly was never was her son, and left with no knowledge of her passing. How was it that even the servants, the guards, even the mighty Aesir—how was it that they all seemed to know without knowing, that Loki was not one of them?

 

No one had told them, even when Thor returned Loki to his cell to wallow in his hatred. No, they still called him ‘prince’ with the same distaste as they ever had. He could only imagine how worse it would be if they truly knew who he was. 

 

_What_ he was.

 

But there he was, still named prince, and treated as common as all the other prisoners. Finding out that his own mother had died, in a mere passing statement. Because they had forgotten about him, because he did not even register to them anymore. Because he was nothing to those rotten, pig-headed, _rusl_. He would never forgive them, in a thousand, a million years. He may no longer make a mark on their lives, but he would hold that grudge till he died.

 

"Uh, did I say something wrong?" Anthony questioned, having already pushed himself away to give Loki room. He looked completely panicked, all his walls knocked down for Loki to see just how much worry and care the inventor possessed. All directed at him as if he deserved such care.  

 

“No,” Loki insisted, “No, you did not. Just memories, nothing more.”

 

 

“Bad ones?”

 

“Nothing uncommon.”

 

Anthony smiled ruefully at that and snuggled back into his arms, taking in a slow, deep breath. He promptly choked on said breath and moved away again.

 

“God damn, you smell!” he whined, hand flying up to cover his nose. “What the hell were you doing, living in a trash can?” 

 

“Ah, well…”

 

His eyes widened almost comically. “No, oh no, you _didn’t_ ,” he breathed. “Loki, why didn’t you just come home?”

 

“And bring my troubles with me again? No, I wished to keep you from ever being…” 

 

_Stolen_.

 

“…Harmed again.”

 

“Harmed?” the mortal scoffed, pulling away to stretch himself to the ceiling. Loki eyed the rumbled clothes, the almost black stains of blood across his chest and shoulders. His mortal was not looking well, even after a nights sleep. And he knew precisely why. 

 

“Honey, I’m Iron Man, I’m going to get ‘harmed’ on a daily basis. I mean, hopefully not, but i’m not holding my breath. It’s not like I want to get hurt.”

 

 

“Yet you play with fire,” Loki replied, sitting up to study the man who gave him a warning look that he would ignore. Anthony was no threat. “Why did you persist to play with things you know nothing about? It is clear to me you knew the dangers of the tool you held in your hand, yet you pushed and pushed, and pushed.”

 

 

“Excuse me,” Anthony growled, turning to face him again. “I pushed my limits because _someone_ wouldn’t fucking come home. Because _someone_ disappeared and for all I knew, was dead somewhere in an alley way, which, by the way, smells about right.”

 

“You know better than that, and don’t you dare attempt to play this all on me. I left to protect you, and you go and do yourself irreparable harm!”

 

Eyes no longer filled with warmth, Anthony swung his legs over the side and stood up. He wobbled dangerously, but sheer determination kept him stranding, Loki was sure. 

 

“What are you even talking about?” he asked, without turning back to Loki. “I’m _fine_ , for fucks sake. You’re the one who smells like a hobo and is covered in blood.” 

 

 

“As are you,” Loki reminded, voice softening. He had heard it, the worry in the man’s voice. Perhaps not for himself, as Loki wished, but for him. 

 

“I do not smell like a hobo, I smell like—“

 

“Death.”

 

Anthony’s shoulders twitched, and at long last, he turned to face Loki once again. A night’s sleep had done nothing for those shadows under his eyes, nor the darkened veins crawling up the man’s neck. All the rest in the Nine Realms could not fix that poison, Loki knew this all too well.

 

“Anthony…” he tried, but choked off. How could he forever be the bearer of bad news? Must it always be on him to take the blame, to wrought this grief? 

 

His voice strangled, Anthony asked, “What? Fuck, you’re scaring me, just tell me already.”

 

’13 times you told me,” Loki began, unable to meet his eyes any longer. “You let that magic rip through your body 13 times, you let it rape your system… you let it call him.”

 

“Wha… who?”

 

Loki shook his head, refusing to say his name. The last thing they needed was one more reason for that monster to look their way, if he wasn’t already fully focused. If he didn’t already know where Loki was. 

 

“Anthony, you have been poisoning yourself each and every time you used the staff. You should not have even been _able_ to use it,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But you did, and now… now I must hurry to heal myself so I may heal you.”

 

“But… it’s not that bad, Lokes,” Anthony denied, kneeling on the bed with arms reaching for him. He allowed the touch, as cold and shaky as it was. “Come on, it’s just a nose bleed, i’ve had worse.”

 

“Anthony, for Urd’s sake!” he snapped, meeting his eyes with a desperate fury. “You are dying!”

 

“No i’m not.”

 

It was too quick of a reply, said in too small of a voice to be true denial, and Loki shook his head as he watched the stubborn spark in Anthony’s eyes fade more by the second. 

 

“I’m _not_ …” he insisted.

 

“Anthony, please…”

 

“I’m not,” he whispered, and finally broke. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's song: 
> 
> When I was young, just a lad  
> I traveled far and wide.  
> Away I went, and so glad  
> I would follow the tide.  
> To far off seas, to yonder lands  
> I aim to find my way.  
> To build a home with my own hands  
> I will return some day.
> 
> Now I am old, worn and gray  
> I travel an old road slow.  
> To a home I wished i'd stay  
> The path raveled to and fro.  
> To the place I came from, far from me  
> I wish to find my way.  
> To the land across that distant sea  
> I will return some day.
> 
> He really can't keep his sarcasm on hold, even in his songs.  
> Old and gray. Pffah.


	15. You are My Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not edited, as usual. Sorry for the short chapter.

 

 

Sunlight glinted through a heavy shade at just the right angle to shine directly into his eyes, waking him up a lot sooner than he intended. Damn everything and everyone, he’d forgotten to reboot JARVIS’ systems after the last power outage from the scepter blast. The only sliver of satisfaction he held on to was that everyone else in the tower was also experiencing the lack of tinted windows right now. But still, he was tired, bone tired. All Tony wanted a break—he _deserved_ a break after everything he’d done to find Loki again. Plus, he was able to feed SHIELD information about the Glow Stick of Death (No longer destiny, for obvious reasons) and get them off his back for a while about the new designs they wanted from him. It was just a propulsion system, some new engines for their new hover crap, but Tony was a little more wary of what he gave to the organization these days. After the Tesseract mess, his hacking had increased and his trust decreased. Shit stunk and Tony was going no where near that until he knew where said shit was and who shat it.

 

Rolling over on his side with a grunt, Tony pressed his face into the warm back in front of him and took a deep breath. It didn’t smell quite the same, which wasn’t really a surprise considering Loki had been living off in god knows where, doing god knows what. But under all the trash-smell, which seriously needed to go, the same deep, earthy scent still lingered. 

 

Spices… cold dirt? Hmmm leather?

 

Tony sniffed again, pressing his nose in closer in an attempt to bypass the scent of dumpster.

 

“I thought you disliked the smell of me currently?”

 

Tony flinched away, not expecting Loki’s voice to sound so calm and awake. Clearly, someone had been up a lot longer then him. 

 

“I do, under all that crap,” Tony replied, staring at the dingy green tunic until Loki turned his head to look over his shoulder at him. “Why didn’t you shower if you were up?”

 

“I did not wish to disturb you.”

 

“I doubt you would have.”

 

Loki turned full around, keeping the same distance Tony had put between them, he noted. Loki murmured, “Yet, something did disturb you.”

“A giant gas ball.”

 

Loki’s brow furrowed for a long moment, and Tony was oh-so tempted to smooth the wrinkles out with a kiss. “Is that another nick name for Thor? Was he here?”

 

Tony let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Good one, but no, this time I was talking about the sun. JARVIS’ systems are a little on the fritz after I—“ he snapped his mouth shut. 

 

After he used the scepter for the 10th time and blew out half a city block with the magic equivalent of an EMP. Not that he was going to say that, or even touch on the whole magic subject right now. Because Loki would get that look in his eye again, like Tony was already _gone_ , or something. Like he was actually dying, which, _ha ha_ , no, he was not.

 

He’s just tired, that’s all. 

 

“How about we shower together?” He suggested suddenly, surprising both of them. They had showered together twice now, but both time had been after bad days and neither of them really touched one another. Just a quick scrub and off to bed. 

 

But now, they were both really awake and yeah, there had been kissing leading up to their separation, and a little touching here and there, but nothing intense. 

 

_But you love him, so why is that a problem?_

  
Tony scowled and told his inner Bruce voice to shut up and calm down, you pervert. 

 

“Or not, you know, I can wait,” he babbled, backpedaling as smoothly as possible. “You need it more than me.”

 

“That is debatable,” Loki sneered, a finger flicking at the shoulder of Tony’s shirt where the blood had now gone stiff. “I would say we both deserve a shower right now.”

 

Tony’s eyes flicked up from the hand hovering near his chest to meet Loki’s eyes. They were dark, not the kind of angry dark that they were last night, thankfully, but the kind of dark that Tony earned after a _really_ good kiss. 

 

“Sounds… great,” he said slowly, unable to break eye contact now that Loki had captured his full attention. “If you’re up for it, you know.”

 

“Oh, I am most definitely ‘up for it’…” Loki leaned in closer, his breath brushing over Tony’s chin and lips. “I loathed to admit it, but I _missed_ you.”

 

“I missed you too,” Tony whispered back, leaning in to close the distance between them. It was a short, but passionate kiss that ended with a little needy moan from one of them. “are you doing this, then?”

 

Loki sat up in a way-too-smooth a motion for this early in the morning, and stretched his arms up over his head without answering. Tony spared a moment to eye the stretch of skin on display before the god rolled out of bed and stood, holding a hand out to him with a smirk. 

 

“Okaay, guess that’s a ‘yes’,” chuckled Tony, clambering out after him and accepting Loki’s help as he stumbled after him into the bathroom. Something in his chest pinched, driving the breath right out of his lungs in the blink of an eye. He forced his free hand to remain by his side and not clutch desperately at his chest, if only to keep Loki from noticing. He didn’t need him worrying right now, it wasn’t a big deal. 

 

He was just tired.

 

He breathed in again, but it wasn’t enough. He never had enough after the arc reactor was installed, but now, somehow, it was even less. Not enough air. Legs needed air to move, heart needed air to beat. Brain. 

 

Needed…

 

There was a gasp that couldn’t have been him, because it was so deep and _breathy_ , and Tony’s knees gave out under him. Just before the gray-tiled floor faded into darkness, strong arms closed around him and Loki yelled his name.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Anthony!” he tried for the tenth time, kneeling on his bruised knees while cradling Stark’s head in his lap. There was blood again, from his nose and mouth, and Loki desperately hoped that the blood on his lips was also from his nose, not from something internal. 

 

His shouting was clearly doing nothing to help, and Loki cursed himself for his slowness. 

 

“JARVIS, call the doctor here, and Thor.”

 

Loki waited, and after a minute, looked up at the ceiling in dismay. What had Anthony said, that the device was no operational? But hadn’t he allowed Loki in just last night?

 

“JARVIS!” he bellowed to the ceiling. 

 

Nothing, not a sound. 

 

Cursing his shaking limbs, Loki hefted Stark up into his arms, wobbling dangerously until he caught himself on the doorway with a shoulder and added another bruise to his collection. It mattered naught, though, only Anthony mattered. 

 

“You will not die,” Loki growled as he rushed down the hallway to the stairs. He didn’t trust the lifting device—elevator—to move for him, and took the stairs three at a time. Loki wasn’t even sure what hour it was, or if the doctor would be in his lab. Considering that he had never bothered to learn of where Banner slept, he prayed silently for the man to be where he could find him. 

 

But, he was not in the lab where Loki had found him before, or the kitchen, and he couldn’t hold in the miserable sob that escaped him as he ran for the communal room. 

 

“Loki?!” a voice called out from behind him, sending him skidding to a stop. 

 

He turned to find a familiar face framed with blond hair and what looked like a carrot sticking out of his open mouth. The carrot fell, and Thor jumped forward, wrapping both he and Stark up in an awkward hug. 

 

“Brother! I thought you lost! I thought—I must apologize… I… since when have you returned?” he questioned, pulling back without noticing the man in Loki’s arms. His eyes were full of guilt and stubborn intent to set things right, and Loki was not in the forgiving mood, never mind the fact that they had more pressing matters. 

 

“Not _now_ , fool. Tell me, where is Banner? Anthony is… he has…” he swallowed when his voice began to shake, and directed his gaze down to the pale face tucked against his shoulder. 

 

Thor leaned over him to look as well, and let out a sharp breath. “What has caused this? Surely he has not been in battle, I heard nothing of it.”

 

“You don’t know?” Loki hissed at his brother, clutching Anthony to his chest tightly. “He has been using the scepter, over and over again, right here in this tower. How could you not _know_? How did you not stop him!?”

 

Thor’s worried expression faded to pure horror that Loki felt finally reflected on the situation properly. His brother may be a fool, but he was not ignorant enough to not know who Thanos was and what he was capable of. Even if he did never quite believe Loki about what the Mad Titan had done to _him,_ he did believe the stories of others that came before. 

 

“He… I did not know, truly. If I had, you know I would have stopped him,” Thor insisted, a large hand closing over Loki’s already bruised shoulder and squeezing. He flinched, but Thor did not let go. “When was this done? How did a mortal wield such a thing?”

 

“I do not know how he did it, I only know he did,” Loki replied tersely, shrugging off Thor’s hand and putting space between them. “And not once, either, but 13 times.”

 

The thunderer’s face paled more. “I do not think Banner will be much help, brother.”

 

“He will help me if I _say_ he will. Now, where is he?”

 

Thor looked ready to argue more, but Loki made to step around him to hunt down the damned doctor himself, diverting Thor’s attention back to the matter at hand. 

 

“I heard him and the Lady Widow speaking earlier,” he said, turning to lead the way back down the hall where Loki had just come from. “He mentioned Stark’s work room.”

 

_Of course, he is undoubtably still testing the accursed thing_ , Loki thought, stalking after Thor at a quick pace. 

 

The glass door was open like it always was when Loki came down there. For a single moment, something warmed in Loki’s chest as he stepped past the threshold. It was like… it was almost like coming home. Even more than walking into the tower, this place felt like home. 

 

The moment was ruined as soon as he got a look at the place. There, on the far wall, was a blackened hole from the backlash of the portal closing. Part of the ceiling had also collapsed around that area, and the entire corner was roped off with some sort of yellow ribbon. But that was not all, the room felt chilled, as if the distinct lack of Anthony’s presence gave it life where it otherwise had none. 

 

“Hey, I didn’t expect you to be awake for another few hours,” a voice called out from the second room over. 

 

Loki followed it, Thor now tagging behind him in silence. 

 

“I don’t have any coffee brewed if you—“ Banner broke off as he looked up, his smile fading as soon as his eyes darted over them in quick assessment. 

 

“You came back,” he said dumbly. 

 

“I returned without your ridicules device,” Loki snarled, moving to cross the room and possibly strangle the doctor before he could help them. “You have no _idea_ what you have done!”

 

Banner was raising his hands in protest, eyes wide in fear. 

 

_As they should be,_ he thought. 

 

But, no, it was not fear of Loki, it was fear _for_ Loki. For the second he stepped forward, his body froze under a power he had not felt in many, many years. In the last seconds before he was ripped away from this realm, his hands tightened around Stark, and held on for dear life. 

 

* * *

 

 

There was once a place in the mountains, a collection of caves connected by winding paths that sometimes ended with abrupt drops into dark crevasse, or sometimes pools of water. Loki had discovered it one day, while roaming free of the castle and avoiding more dull tutoring classes of things he already knew. It wasn’t his fault that Thor learned these things at a slower pace, he did not see why he was forced to sit there and listen to the same nonsense simply because Thor could not be bothered to _read_. 

 

So, he ran off to the woods, and ended up following a mother bear and her cubs. They walked miles, the bear allowing him to walk beside her and her children as if he was her own. He followed her until the ground grew rocky and steep, and the bear started to pull away from him. Loki frowned, realizing he was no longer welcome company, not this close to her den. So, he departed, leaving them to find their home while he continued upwards. 

 

At some point, he found a cave. At first, he feared he had stumbled upon some other bear’s home, and considering its size, it would be no gentle mother this time. But, after a quick look over the ground for droppings or any sort of bedding material, Loki found the cave to be quite empty. 

 

And quite deep. 

 

His first exploration into the cave ended only an hour in, when one of Odin’s ravens appeared on his shoulder and pecked at his ear until he finally turned back to head home. His second trip, he came prepared. Equipped with a satchel of tools, bread and cheese, water, and a crystal, Loki climbed his way back up to the entrance and began his journey once again. 

 

Fourteen hours later, Loki was lost and had dropped his satchel when he misstepped on one of the gully paths, nearly sending himself to a sudden death.  The only thing that remained was his crystal, aglow with his own magic, and slowly growing dimmer as the panic set in. Still, he continued on, no long in curiosity, but now in hopes of finding an exit. 

 

Several hours later, all he had was darkness. The walls around him closed in tighter and tighter, and even the air he breathed had grown stale and dusty. There was a pressure behind his eyes, and in his ears, a sort of ringing. Simply existing seemed to hurt, and Loki was starting to lose his senses at last. Until, of course, he made on last mistake, and panicked. 

 

Running was even more painful, but something had come loose in Loki’s brain, and logic was no longer his finest weapon. He ran and ran, bouncing off of walls blindly, tripping over stalemates. Until he stepped out and his foot found nothing but air.

 

He fell, hitting jagged edges of cliff sides he could not seem to grasp well enough to stop his decent. It did slow him down, so when he finally hit the bottom, he remained alive and conscious and in so much pain. 

 

And there he remained, for what was later said to be hours, but what felt like years. Years of pure darkness, of pain burning through his body and lungs, and pressure, and silence. The heavy weight of thousands of miles of earth above him, crushing him, blacking him out of existence. 

 

A thousand or more years later, Loki remembered that feeling, of being so alone, and so small, and _crushed_. 

 

Because it was that same darkness that weighed on him the first time he heard _his_ voice in the void. 

 

“ **Finally, you have returned, little godling.** ”

 

Loki did not raise his head or stand from where he crouched against the cold, stone ground. Because he was right back in that cave, broken and lost and—

 

“ **I think it is high time we caught up,** ” Thanos chuckled.

 

_Terrified._

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Promises You Wish to Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you say to someone you know is dying? 
> 
> What do you say when you, yourself, have run out to of time and options and perhaps even hope?
> 
> You should, quite possibly, tell them the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not betad. :

 

 

Loki trembled at the sheer impossibility of it. There should have been no way for Thanos to drag his consciousness back to this forsaken chunk of rock, not without the tesseract’s power over him or at least the staff. But there he was, looming in all his pretentious power, feet not touching the barren ground bellow him. Because that’s where Loki’s place was, in the dirt, underfoot, _beneath_ him.

 

_But where is Anthony?_

 

Loki’s heart dropped, and it takes all of his power not to scramble around the rocks to get away because he knew already. There was no reason the mortal’s consciousness should have been pulled along with his, yet…

 

“ **I see you brought along another pet for me** ,” Thanos mentioned, his lined lips curving into a smirk. “ **I suppose I should thank you for this gift**.”

 

Loki could not bare it anymore, he looked down at his arms that had—in reality—been clutching Stark to his chest and, yes, there he was. Pale, nose bloody yet again, and very much here where he should not be.

 

“Tis no gift of mine, but of your newest pet, Amora.” 

 

“ **Ah, yes, she did have a hand in locating him once again. But you, Trickster, showed me his worth.** ”

 

Loki sneered, “What worth has a mortal for the great and powerful Thanos?”

 

The giant chuckled, leaning back in his hovering throne and resting his chin on a hand with all the nonchalance of a worry-free king. He seemed in a far better mood than Loki had expected or dared to hope, and yet his smile worried him. An angry Thanos was dangerous, a pleased one had something up his sleeve. The Mad Titan should have been suffering—even slightly—a loss after his more recent failure to capture Midgard, but instead, he seemed more pleased than ever. 

 

“ _Dark clouds upon the horizon_ ,“ thought Loki, “ _and his eyes are on something I treasure_.”

 

“ **Loki, you seem to be thinking and scheming again, how adorable** ,” remarked Thanos, amusement apparent in his voice. “ **Why, I wonder, do you believe you have control over this mortal’s roll in the upcoming war?** ”

 

“He has no part in it,” Loki snapped. “He is no weapon, and you have no power over him. The tesseract would not take hold.”

 

Loki cursed himself. The spark in the Titan’s eye grew, because he had not known and Loki had just foolishly provided him with wore reason to be interested in Stark. 

 

**“He _is_ something useful. I saw the power he wields, I saw it crush my army in a single blow. I saw it crush _you_.** ”

 

Loki flinched, fingers curling into Stark’s back to press him closer. His mind screamed for him to flee, which was ridiculous, since they were not present physically and they should not be here to begin with. The Tesseract’s hold over him should have been broken, he was released from its power and Stark had never succumb to it. 

 

 

“What you wish to obtain is not with him. He is not worth your trouble,” Loki tried, forcing himself to look away from the pale face curled into his chest.

 

“ **Careful, you wear on my patience…** ”

 

“And you wear out your threats, Thanos,” Loki snarled. “You existence is a _joke_ , the oldest and most well-known joke in all the Nine realms. The beast in love with a beauty who will _never_ love him, never gaze upon his flesh with desire, _never_ accept his gifts. Just how many lives have you taken to woo your lady?” Loki leered up at him, watching the humor shed away like snake’s skin. “You are a pitiful, wasteful, desperate—“

 

Thanos responded as predicted and pain flashed through Loki’s mind like a whip of fire. He let it in, let it burn, and used the pain to escape. It tore through him and he knew there would be scars, more scars. But Loki was desperate, and Anthony would _not_ be used by this monster.

 

There was a scream. It might have been his.

 

Crisp, white light flared against Loki’s eyelids, and noise, so much noise. Voices calling out, a clattering of metal, something cracking, his own panting breath. Everything beat upon Loki’s skull, and after such pain from tearing himself free of Thanos, yet again, Loki let the silent darkness drag him under and away from the accursed reality where everything was quite literally going to Hell. 

 

* * *

 

 

The worst part about waking up, Tony found, was that people were almost always there and almost always talking. Loudly. 

 

No, he was sure that it was within the 99 percentile that someone was there talking while you were sleeping, and therefore he could say with confidence that it was an official tradition for people to gather around someone’s—usually hospital bed—and fucking _blah blah blah_.

 

“If you don’t shut up in three seconds,” Tony warned, not even opening his eyes, “I will melt everything you own in a volcano.”

 

“Tony!”

 

“Stark!”

 

Tony hissed, “ _Volcano,”_ and opened his eyes. 

 

Above him, or sort of lurking in his peripheral vision, was someone blonde and someone sort of blooby that was probably Bruce because Bruce was always there when someone passed out or got hurt or dropped a cup. Hell, Bruce was there when Tony accidentally put his metal travel cup in the microwave after their third day of magic testing and very little sleep. What an adventure that had been. 

 

“Tony, how do you feel?” Probably Bruce asked from his left. 

 

“Like someone stuffed me full of cotton and then hammered nails through my skull to make me into a pretty voodoo doll.”

 

“O-kay… that’s sounding a little delirious, maybe I should get you another shot of—“

 

“No,” Tony stopped him, trying to wave a hand at him and failing. It felt like someone had attached 50 lb. weights to each finger. “No, it’s fine. I’m normal. Mostly normal. Just keep pins away from me and—where’s Loki?”

 

He forced himself up into a mostly-sitting possession, automatically looking past the relieved looking blonde-blob at the other bed. He had a feeling he would find the god there, for some reason, and there, indeed, was Loki. Dark hair was flung over his face, a clump of it caught between thin, pale lips that looked no where near as flush and inviting as they did this morning. In fact, Loki had gone a sort of gray color—which might be a part of Tony’s fever-haze because everyone was kind of blurry and lacking in vivid colors—and god dammit, he looked so fragile. 

 

_Small._

 

“What happened?” he asked, reaching up to rub at his eyes and getting himself tangled up in the IV. He glared at the thing, trying to burn it with his mind-powers, and failing that, began tugging on all the wires and tubes to free himself.

 

“No idea—well, no, some idea,” Bruce corrected, coming over and freeing Tony’s hand from the IV, smacking his other hand away from the heart monitor. “He walked into the lab with you in his arms and before I could warn him, stepped into he testing field.”

 

“Oh… and something happened, I assume, since you mentioned it.”

 

“Well, I had a bad feeling about it, considering what we, huh, were testing there… so I tried to stop him… but…”

 

Tony looked over at his friend and flashed a weak smile. “Stopping Loki is sort of impossible without major bribery and a kitchen full of food. I doubt you had one at your disposal at the time.”

 

“You’re hilarious, but seriously, you’re not doing so well and he’s—“ Bruce gestured to the screen hovering next to Loki, “—not doing well, either. I think. I can’t really tell since both his and Thor’s heart rates are apparently a higher than ours and i’m not that well versed in alien biology in the first place.”

 

“Tis true, we function in much more advanced—“ he broke off when Tony interrupted: 

 

“Thor, no offense, but can you shut up? I’m not talking to you.”

 

“Still?”

 

“Yeah, _still_ ,” Tony snapped, purposely leaning around to stare past him at Loki some more. “I take it you two haven’t talked yet? Wait, I don’t care, because _we_ aren’t talking.”

 

“Tony…” Bruce sighed from behind him.

 

“Don’t. None of you are exactly free and clear of my rant of the-abuse-of-innocent-past-genocidal-maniacs _still_. I told you when I first decided he could stay here that this was it, he was done. Like 500 years of torture wasn’t enough, he had to come crashing in on this judgmental lot.

 

He’s suffered, Bruce. You didn’t see that place…” Tony trailed off, remembering, against his will, where the aliens had taken him not that long ago. He had only been there for what, a few days? A week, tops? And he had never seen the Small Room that Loki still woke up screaming about, or even spent that much time in the cell-thing. They had wanted something from him, something more than blood and revenge or whatever they had against Loki. He still didn’t know. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Loki knew. 

 

“God _dammit_.”

 

“I know, Tony,” Bruce assured him quietly, squeezing his shoulder and letting go before Tony could complain that that didn’t really feel reassuring, but kind of hurt. “I had my reservations when you walked into the living room with him after his arrival—everyone did—but I saw it in his face. I’ve seen that look before, Tony, and I haven’t condemned him since.”

 

Tony bit back a nasty comment on their little explosion of distrust when Tony was kidnapped and oh yeah, everyone decided Loki was responsible. Instead, he asked, “Is he unconscious or something else?”

 

“As far as I can tell, he’s out cold. I don’t know what happened when he stepped into the testing field, but he just sort of collapsed and neither of us could wake you guys up. Loki was in some sort of a trance or something, I think?” Bruce frowned and pulling off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have no data, Tony. There’s nothing I can say for sure.”

 

Tony spared the man another smile—it was easier when it was Bruce— and waved him off. No point in blaming anyone else for it, Loki was the one bumbling around the lab where he didn’t belong—or well, he did, but not in _there_.

 

“That’s fine, doc. Everything’s fine and dandy,” he lied. “Why don’t you go rest since I think it’s 3AM somewhere and I’m not going anywhere soon.”

 

“Tony, if I find out you got up or went anywhere near the lab, I’ll—“

 

“No worries, I’m not dying to get in there right now, anyway,” Tony replied, almost laughing at his joke before realizing it wasn’t funny and he already sounded crazy. “I will ask you one more favor, though.”

 

Bruce perked up, eager to help. “Sure, what do you need?”

 

“Can you wheel my bed over closer to Loki’s?”

 

Tony wanted to wipe that knowing smile off of Bruce’s face, and ignored the fact that his cheeks were heating up and Thor was squinting at him thoughtfully. Fuck them, he was dying, he didn’t need his dignity. 

 

Once the bed was moved over, wires and IVs maneuvered for maximum comfort, both men left them in the dimly lit med-ward with promises of breakfast and more information in the morning. Tony sighed, curling up on his side and reaching out to pull the hair from Loki’s lips that had been bothering him since he woke up. It felt damp, sort of slimy—which was unusual for Loki since his second day here and the discovery of Tony’s shower and then later, Natasha’s shampoo that he didn’t want to know how Loki obtained and was not going to get in-between any of _that_.

 

Tony settled into the uncomfortable cot, his reassuring smiles and jokes having left with his audience. Now it just him, his unconscious not-a-boyfriend, and a heavy silence. Absentmindedly picking at the IV Bruce had re-introduced into his hand, he studied Loki’s face and tried to block out the panic building in his chest as the silence continued on. He wasn’t good with silence, never had been and ever since that _room_ , it’d been worse. He kind of got it, why Loki needed songs to get through. It wasn’t even the sound, it was the way it grounded you, kept you focused on something other than the world around you, or lack thereof. Like the story, or the words, remembering the words. Anything to keep that weight from crushing you.

 

Now, there was nothing again and the god’s breathing was too faint to use as an anchor. So Tony did what he usually did for Loki’s sake. 

 

He sang. 

 

* * *

 

 

_You never told me where you came from._

 

Loki frowned at the voice slowly drifting into his mind. It sounded weak, wobbly, as though the owner had been crying, and he almost wished it would stop. 

 

_You never told me your name._

 

He willed his eyes open to find the source of the voice, and of course, it was _him_. Laying across from him in the dim light, singing with unfocused eyes and taking deep, rasping breathes between verses. 

 

“Hey there,” he croaked, giving Loki a little smile. “Nice to see you again.”

 

Loki tried to smile back and perhaps he managed, but he could not tell. 

 

“An-Anthony… are you hurt?” he asked.

 

“Well, i’m dying, according to you. I guess the little pain-trip this morning was the hint I needed as a wake-up call. How are you doing? You went on your own adventure I hear.”

 

“You hear? From who? What did they say?”

 

“Uh, Bruce?” the man replied, brow furrowing at Loki’s panic. “He said you fell down? In the lab? magic? Some sort of flopping like a fish?”

 

“Ah… yes.”

 

Stark stared at him blankly, as if not expecting Loki to admit to it. The moment dragged on and on, Loki finding himself unable to look away and neither of them able to speak. There was so much in that gaze, questions he did not have answers to, reassurances Loki didn’t deserve, and answers to questions he dare not ask. Not yet. Not when the storm was finally breaking. Not when everything good and everything Loki needed was being threatened.

 

“Sooo…”

 

Loki blinked and waited for him to continue. 

 

“I’m thinking the only thing that could make this worse is Fury showing up tomorrow.”

 

“I… agree, that would be one more unneeded issue.”

 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what fate would throw at us to fuck our lives up the ass just a little more, “ Anthony picking at a tube that seemed to be attached to the back of his hand. “We’ve got, what? Portal-Traveling aliens… a bunch of angry, distrustful Avengers…”

 

“Your ailing health,” Loki provided, not meeting Stark’s eye. 

 

“Yes, thank you, let’s not forget that i’m dying, now.”

 

“There may be one other thing.”

 

Stark seemed to be trying to catch Loki’s eye, but he could not do it. He could not face him and let him know that there was one more thing to go wrong. That he had caught the eye of the very monster that had set Loki free upon this realm like a rabid animal by simply fighting back against them with a weapon he had not even designed. For Stark had told him the story of the bomb he had brought through the portal, one lazy day before things collapsed around them.

 

_“You did not intend to use it, then?” Loki had asked, incredulous._

 

_“Nah, not my style. Not anymore,” he replied. “But it’s proof that humans suck, huh? Willing to blow up an entire city to ‘stop the spread’. At least Fury didn’t sign off on it, apparently. He was the one who warned me it was coming.”_

 

_“But you knew of its power?”_

 

_“Of course, i’ve built them before. I know what a nuke can do.”_

 

_“And you were willing to die to deliver it through the portal… to end the battle.”_

 

_“Sure,” he said with a shrug, and change the subject._

 

 He had to know, there was no way around it. A knowledgeable Stark was a dangerous Stark, and Loki had no intention of letting this man fly to his death alone again. Amora would be at their door soon, agent of Thanos and as good of a realm-walker as Loki, himself. Not only could she take Anthony away herself, the Titan had managed to drag both their spirits to his realm by simply contact with the site where the staff had been used, he dare not imagine what else he could do to capture the mortal. 

 

“There is another—two other—who crave your power and have been observing you for some time,” Loki began, tearing his eyes away from Stark’s shoulder to finally meet his eyes. There was no more humor there, just rapt attention and something like disappointed understanding. He was not surprised, he had expected this or something like it. “The Mad Titan and his current tool, Amora, have seen your power and have shown a keen interest in controlling it.”

 

“My power? You mean my suits or the reactor? Because, no offense, but I don’t see how that’s exactly helpful to them when they couldn’t even win a battle with you at the helm. I mean, magic and an alien army—that we defeated, of course—is more his style, right?”

 

“He does not care about appearances, not to us trifles, anyway. He will use anything and everything at his disposal to gain what he wants.”

 

“So he wants me to… what? Build him something?”

 

“I know not, I only know that he has been watching you since before I was captured on Asgard.”

 

Anthony’s face grew drawn, eyes unfocused as he gazed past Loki’s shoulder and thought. Again, that familiarity in his eyes that made Loki’s chest ache. Too many times had this situation arose, and too many times had Stark fought on his own. 

 

“Anthony…” Loki murmured, reaching out and cupping the man’s face in a shaking hand. “Anthony, I cannot promise that all will be well, or that you will come out from this unharmed or happy.” Stark snorted, eyes focusing on Loki with a bitter sharpness to them. “I can promise you one thing, though.”

 

“You sure? Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 

Loki nodded. “Positive.”

 

Anthony raised a brow, silently saying, “ _well_?”

 

“I promise to stay by your side through it all. I swear to you, and you alone, to fight to the bitter end for you. _With_ you.”

 

A choked sound escaped the man’s lips, half sob, half laugh, and Loki was startled by the bright smile that formed. Anthony drew him closer, pressing their foreheads together with their noses brushing as they both breathed in painful gasps. They knew the risks, that they were alone in this fight. They knew there was so little a chance that both of them would come home unscarred, or at all.

 

And it was terrifying, the thought that Loki would be left alone once again. Or worse yet, that he would leave Anthony behind to suffer yet another loss. Because Loki knew, despite all his reservations, that this man cared about him and would mourn his passing where few other’s would.

 

“Hey…”

 

“Mmm?” Loki hummed, too exhausted to open his eyes.

 

“So, this isn’t because i’m dying or that we’re probably going to get killed by some asshole or another. Just so you know, I mean, that that’s not why i’m telling you this—cuz I don’t want you to think that there’s no other reason for me to say it. I’m not that shallow, you know, and—“

 

“ _Please_ ,” Loki breathed, not sure what he was asking of him. To stop? To speak?

 

The man remained silent, hands curled into Loki’s hair, trembling almost as badly as Loki was. The tremors slowly stopped, Stark’s body going limp in his arms the longer he waited for the words he needed to hear.

 

“Please, Anthony…”

 

When nothing else came, Loki pulled back enough to study the face before him. It was no longer tensed with fear or worry. His eyes closed, not squeezed shut, mouth hanging open slightly, and his breathing slow. 

 

Asleep. He had fallen asleep.

 

Loki smiled and kissed Anthony’s forehead every so gently, pretending he wasn’t disappointed.

 

“ _I love you_ ,” he whispered into the silence, and allowed the pain of it wash over him.

 


	17. We Have the Hulk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What?
> 
> What?
> 
> Shit.

 

“You’re perfectly okay.”

 

“What?”

 

Bruce looked him in the eye. “I said: you’re perfectly okay. No problems. All healed. Not sick.”

 

Tony looked at Loki, who looked back with a similar bemused expression. 

 

“What?”

 

“Okay, I lied. There _is_ something wrong.”

 

“What the hell, Bruce!? What is—“

 

“Apparently, you’re deaf. It’s horrible, I should have seen the signs,” the man continued, looking down at his tablet and moving things around on the screen. 

 

“You’re horrible,” Tony grumbled, kicking off the sheet tangled around his legs and yanking the IV out. “If I’m fine, i’m not staying in here anymore.”

 

To his left, Loki let out a soft noise that started off as a gasp and seemed to tamper off in an embarrassed squeak when he realized he actually made a sound. Tony frowned and looked askance at him, hoping to avoid meeting his gaze, for now. The god had been oddly quiet since Bruce came in about an hour ago and started doing tests. It should have been an awkward silence, but it wasn’t as bad as Tony had thought it would be, considering what he told him last night. What he thought he told him last night, things got a little fuzzy near the end there. He kind of needed to be sure before he started avoiding Loki and preparing his dignity.

 

“I’m not ditching you,” he said, willing himself to meet Loki’s eye and smile like nothing was wrong. “I just want some clothes and some coffee, and I think the last time I ate was Thursday.”

 

Bruce corrected him, “It was Monday, actually.”

 

“A long time. Food is needed. But i’ll be right back, I promise.”

 

Loki’s eyes got that spark in them again, the same one Tony saw when Bruce first mentioned the fact that Tony wasn’t dying—well, not in so many words.

 

“ _Maybe_ ,” he thought to himself. “ _Then again, it might be something we can’t detect in here. I should run it through the lab and take a peek, myself._ ”

 

Tony tuned in just as Loki was saying, “I have no issue with you taking care of myself, but I see no reason for me to remain down here. I, too, am well.”

 

“Not exactly,” Bruce interrupted, inspecting Loki over the tablet screen. “You’re currently bellow Asgard’s average, compared to what we have on record for Thor, anyway. Your blood pressure is bellow 90 right now and other than that, I have no idea what’s going on in there. You’re kind of running cold, for some reason.”

 

Loki’s face pinched and before Tony could remind Bruce that maybe he shouldn’t phrase it like that because Loki was a testy son-of-a-bitch and Tony only got away with half of what he said because Loki seemed to kind of like him, the god was standing and removing his own IV with a flick of the wrist. 

 

“Anthony, I will be in the kitchen, should you need me,” was all he said before he disappeared out the door.

 

“O-okay, that went well.”

 

“What’s going on with you two?” Bruce asked as he sat on the edge of Tony’s bed. “Last I knew, you were looking for him, then he suddenly walks in with you unconscious in his arms, you’re both covered in blood and I think some kind of rotten Chinese food, and Thor’s looking like someone shot him, and then there’s the whole thing with the lab and the fainting…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like there’s a lot you’re not telling me, and I don’t know when it started, but you’ve cut everyone but Loki out.”

 

“ _You_ guys started it, with that ‘separation for the good of the country’ kind of bullshit and then the the stunt Thor pulled when I was kidnapped.”

 

“That’s no excuse,” Bruce chided, narrowing his eyes at Tony. There wasn’t a flash of green or a rumble to his voice that signified Hulk’s need to join the argument. When Hulk and Bruce agreed on something, there was a perfectly balanced, slightly terrifying amount of pressure around the man. Apparently Hulk wasn’t on board with Tony ‘pushing the team away’, either. 

 

“You started this days after Loki crashed through your roof. I know you’ve fallen for him by now, but what was your excuse then? And why am I excluded suddenly? I stayed out of Steve’s plans, I stayed out of the confrontation afterwards, and i’ve been the only one so far who’s supported you dating a mass murderer because he makes you _happy_.”

 

Tony’s fingers curled into the sheet under him as he glared past Bruce’s shoulder. He wasn’t wrong, per say, but he wasn’t exactly right, either. Bruce had stayed out of it, for the most part, but he didn’t exactly help defend Loki from their actions, either. He also would never understand what they had shared that day Loki showed up. That moment when Tony knew he needed to do something before Loki destroyed what was left of himself. The moment Loki looked up at him and looked happy to _die_.

 

“No, I guess there’s no excuse,” he intoned. “It’s complicated.”

 

“You’re talking about _complicated_ to the guy who turns into a giant, green monster and loses all self control when he gets overemotional.”

 

“No, i’m not talking to a monster. I’m talking to a guy who sometimes needs to express himself in a more primal way with finger paints and the throwing of cars.”

 

Bruce hummed, not agreeing or disagreeing as usual, and Tony found himself smiling at the familiar exchange they had tossed back and forth for months before Loki’s arrival. And when he thought about it, Bruce _was_ right, he had cut everyone out for one reason or another. Well, there never was a good reason for loosing touch with Bruce, unless you counted Loki screaming in the hallway until he helped calm him down, or all the meddling of the Great Blondes. The new and unusual drama of the tower these days.

 

“Look,” he began, trying to find a mid-ground. “There’s some stuff going on I can’t explain, not yet, not until I get a better grip on it. As for the Loki stuff… well, you know how I feel about him—or you claim too, i’m still not sure about the ‘L’ word just yet.” He bit his lip, remembering the word he was definitely going to say last night, or might have said already. God dammit, he needed to get Loki alone to gage the situation better. 

 

“Tony, you let him in your lab.”

 

“I let you in my lab.”

 

“You let him in your lab _without_ your supervision, with your suits, your tools, and your _weapons_.”

 

Tony grimaced and conceded, “Alright, so maybe I… ‘L’ word him, it doesn’t need to be a big deal. No need to roll out the red carpet.”

 

Bruce rolled his eyes and tossed the tablet into Tony’s lap. 

 

“Since when is anything you do that’s not a big deal?” he asked dryly. “Anyway, since you’re unexplainably healthy, which i’m assuming Loki had some hand in, look that over and tell me your thoughts. Maybe send me a note later since i’ll be in the lab, and for god’s sake, go get something to eat.”

 

“Yes sir,” Tony quipped, giving him a salute. Bruce smacked his hand away with a snort and left him to not look over the data until he ingested at least three cups of coffee.

 

* * *

 

 

 

A kitchen hadn’t felt this inviting since his first day home after Iraq, when Pepper had finally dragged him home after his burger-eating press conference and cooked him something with vegetables in it. It was warm from whatever Loki was doing over the stove, and a pleasant aroma of spices, toasted bread, and frying meat filled the air. Tony’s stomach announced his presence as he passed through the door, eliciting a startling bark of laughter from the god. 

 

“I thought you might want something more sufficient than your usual apple and coffee, I see I was correct in my assumptions.”

 

“You made this for me?” Tony asked, rising up on his toes to sniff over Loki’s shoulder. There was sausages in the pan, and eggs, and bacon, and what looked like garlic and other chunks of mystery vegetables tossed in as well. “Ooor for the whole team?”

 

“For you and I,” Loki replied, scooping up the vegetables and dumping them on top of the eggs before grabbing a slice of cheese and tossing it in. “I have no desire to feed the very people whodrove me away from you—here.”

 

Tony made a face in agreement, and rested his chin on Loki’s shoulder. It wasn’t awkward still, well not yet anyway, so Tony decided to take a risk and maybe kind of make it awkward. Better now than never, they say.

 

“So, about last night…”

 

Loki’s “ _Yes_?” was chilly and uninviting, and Tony decided whoever said ‘now was better’ wasn’t leaning against a god holding a knife and a spatula at the time.

 

“Did I say anything… odd?”

 

“You mentioned something about dying.”

 

“After that. Like, right after that.”

 

Loki’s entire body tensed, and Tony almost gave up then and there. But Bruce had been right, things needed to be talked about, even if it was still just between him and Loki. He didn't’ have the energy for the others right now and besides, he actually _liked_ Loki. The rest were in still in Tony Stark purgatory. 

 

“No, I do not recall anything after that,” came Loki’s reply at last. 

 

Tony closed his eyes and tried not to freak out. Last night would have been better. Both of them were trapped in the med-ward, half asleep and already neck deep in shit and there was a mood, then, that wasn’t here now. Now it was tense, and there was a sort of angry-miasma coming off of Loki that made him wonder if what he wanted to say was even welcome or if Loki planned on stabbing him once he said it.

 

“I’m not dying, according to Bruce,” he said instead. He would lead up to it. Yeah.

 

“No, I suppose you are no longer in mortal peril,” Loki agreed in the same flat tone. Something sizzled and popped loudly in the pan, and Tony felt the muscles in Loki’s shoulders shift as he scraped and poured and divided up their breakfast. 

 

_He’s making you breakfast. Loki is making food for you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. The same guy who usually takes care of himself first and leaves a mess in the kitchen for you to clean up._

 

_Shit._

 

“I think I love you,” he blurted out loudly, wincing away the second he said it and stumbling gracefully into the table behind him. Definitely panicking now, Tony grabbed the back of a chair to keep from keeling over, and fell into it without looking. His heart was going insane, and wouldn’t it be just great if he finally got a real heart attack after all this time? 

 

_Shit._

 

The stove was oddly quiet now, no more chopping or crackling of bacon. Not that Tony could hear much over his own breathing right now, anyway. 

 

 “You _think_?” came through loud and clear, startling him from his building panic.

 

Tony forced his eyes up from the floor, all the way up Loki’s long legs and his perfectly toned stomach. _A little higher_ , he reminded himself, and finally met Loki’s gaze. His eyes were so green, so fucking _impossibly_ green. Green and bright and— _god why did I wait so long to do this?_ —happy. 

 

“I _know_ ,” he wheezed, clutching at his chest, and that’s all it took. Loki was in front of him within the course of a single breath, pulling Tony out of the chair and drawing him up into a kiss in one, fluid movement. It was sloppy, rough, uncoordinated, full of teeth and Tony thought Loki was saying something between each kiss and gasp for air. 

 

“I know,” he repeated, or replied. He had no idea what Loki was actually saying, but very ounce of his kisses were screaming ‘love’, and he knew. He’d known for a while now. 

 

“—Love… so much—“ Loki was murmuring against his lips, fingers curled tightly into his hair, body pressed flush against his own. He just kept pushing and pulling, as if trying to absorb Tony or too afraid to let him go. Which might not be that far off, considering the shit they’ve been through recently.

 

“ _I know_ ,” he whispered, unable to hold back the stupid grin that was ruining their kisses.

 

Loki let out a giggle Tony had never heard before, and said it again:

 

“I _love_ you.”

 

He knew, but it was very nice to hear, all the same. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was ridiculous, Loki knew, but saying the words out loud for the first time since he was a child seemed to have broken some sort of dam inside of him. Perhaps it was the impending war against Thanos and the possibility of his kidnappers returning, or even the stress of Anthony’s health—which he did believe to be improved in only one night. After all, even Loki had suffered unfavorable effects on his body after using the scepter. 

 

But all of those were the farthest things away on Loki’s mind right now. He had been babbling such fond words for an embarrassingly long period of time, until Anthony’s stomach had interrupted loudly enough to disrupt their kisses. It was something Loki was thankful for, now that they were seated and eating in silence. It was such a childish, weak thing, to break down like that. All the same, it seemed to have had a similar effect on the man seated across the table from him. He caught Anthony’s eye between bites, pleased to note the dark flush that had crept up his neck into his cheeks and stayed. 

 

“So…”

 

“So,” Loki parroted, leaning back in his chair and cupping the cup of lukewarm coffee to his chest. Across from him, Stark mirrored his actions, studying Loki over his mug with a peculiar expression on. “What is it?”

 

“I’m kind of feeling all open and honest right now, but I don’t want to push it and fuck everything up by starling you with some weird kinks or something.”

 

Loki arched a brow. “ _Do_ you have strange ‘kinks’?”

 

“I’m more of a show than a tell kind of guy,” he replied with a wink. “But seriously, I’m kind of… scared-ish. A little, no big deal really, just worried about, you know, the impending doom and honestly, why haven’t those space-time traveling bastards shown back up again?”

 

“Ah, you should know that fear is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone experiences it, the weak, the strong…” he paused and added, “ _Thor_.”

 

The man snorted into his cup.

 

“As for your inquiry, I believe you phrased it quite nicely once before. We ‘kicked their collective asses’.”

 

“We did, didn’t we? Not all of them, obviously, their were fucking thousands of them wandering around when they brought me through to the lab. But maybe we made our mark. I hope we did, because I really don’t want to be trying to protect my back when Thanos is striking head on.”

 

Loki winced at the name. It was not as though the Mad Titan wasn’t already observing them, but he had gone years avoiding voicing his name, trying and failing to keep out of sight. Everyone knew Thanos craved power, and when Loki proved to be the youngest to pass the mage tests in all of recorded time, his mother had come to him with a warning. Never speak his name, never draw too much attention to yourself. 

 

Never, _ever_ , seek him out.

 

“Wait, you say you counted thousands of those creatures?" Loki asked, narrowing his eyes at the man across from him. “When? You never spoke of this.”

 

“Oh?” He mused, placing his mug down with careful precision. “So somewhere between thinking you were a delusion, escaping, you running off to live in a dumpster, me trying to find you while simultaneously discovering how to track magic, our little trip to the Tower ER, and our babbling confessions over breakfast, I was supposed to tell you what I saw?”

 

Loki shifted in his seat and glared down at his empty plate. “Perhaps now, then?” he amended. 

 

“Sure, Lokes,” he replied, smile obvious in his voice. “I saw a bunch of fucking aliens.”

 

“Elaborate.”

 

“Okay, okay. So, When I first got there I was a mess, an organ smoothie—that’s what I called it because humor heals all smoothies—and I was in what I assume you called the Room? Regular old dark room, not a lot of space? Kind of… humid and gross?”

 

Loki had the unpleasant task of forcing his breakfast to stay in his stomach while he nodded silently. 

 

“Yeah, I woke up there, in a shit-load of pain, and there were a couple of those puke-colored things there. They brought me to this—oh god, it was beautiful, I want one—this thing, this device that fixed me up all nice and new. Like, I’m pretty sure I was hemorrhaging blood from at least three different internal organs, and bam, all good. 

 

So, that was nice of them, but it turned out it was the same old story as last time. ‘Build stuff for us’ blah blah blah, hey, let’s break your leg so you can’t be difficult and run off…”

 

Loki looked up when he fell silent, and frowned. A darkness had returned Stark’s eyes that he had happily seen disappear with their so-called ‘confessions’ before breakfast. He had chased it all away with kisses, brought laughter with his foolish chatter, and it was back again, far too easily for his liking. 

 

“Anthony, we do not need to speak of this now if it—“

 

“No, actually, we do,” he said quietly, and added, “I had a thought.”

 

Loki prompted him, “Yes?”

 

“When they walked you from the cell, they only took you to… the Small Room, right?”

 

“…yes. That was the only place I saw outside of my cell.”

 

“Left or right?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

Stark pointed to his side. “When you were brought out, did they take you left,” he pointed the other way, “or right?”

 

Loki considered it, forcing himself to recall only the moment when they removed him from the cell. It was always so harsh a light after being locked away in the dark for so long. He closed his eyes and felt for it, hands on his arms, bruising his skin. Which way had they pulled him?

 

“Left.”

 

“I went right.”

 

Loki opened his eyes with a shiver. He would not break down, not now. Nights of waking up screaming had slowed to a stop, and Anthony _needed_ him. They had bigger things to fight than his own demons.

 

“What was right?” he asked. 

 

“Another one of those glassed in pathways that we worked our way through to get to the outside. But this time it looked out on a hanger, a very well stocked hanger with lots and lots of alien dudes lined up and heavily armed, and also filing into lots and lots of heavily armed ships.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Stark nodded to himself, lips a thin, grim line. “And what was it Thanos gave you so you could attack us?”

 

Loki paled, and all the broken pieces finally slid perfectly into place. 

 

Why had this, apparently, random race of creatures kidnapped and tortured him for years? 

Why did they never seem to want anything from him but his screams and pain? 

Why had they come back only now, so long after his initial escape?

Why had they found no issue with bringing back a seemingly useless mortal, and suddenly had the means and equipment to provide a workshop for him?

 

Why was Thanos so _pleased_ with himself?

 

“An army,” Loki rasped. “He has another army.”

 

 


	18. On the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They really were meant to relax. I mean, just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not bet-ad

 

 

 

So few things really pissed Tony off. Like, _really_ pissed him off, to the point of seeing red. Blood pressure rising, teeth grinding, steam-pouring-out-of-his-ears-pissed.

 

There was a big difference between fighting an enemy, like Ivan Vanko and his vengeance, and being faced with a massive army of aliens under the command of a crazy bastard with no decent reasons for attacking anyone. Well, not that there’s any decent reason for building an army and attacking innocent people. 

 

But Vanko, Tony understood. Revenge was in your blood, the kind of old anger that burns cold and when you finally get that moment—you got that bastard under your boot—and you burn that anger right out. So yeah, he got mad at the guy, because he _did_ kind of blow up the Stark Convention. But it was something Tony could deal with. Just another guy, doing his thing. A bad thing, mind you, but a thing that Tony could actually comprehend. 

 

And Loki, well, he was a wild card back when he showed up. Not a lot of logic that Tony could follow, at first, with all the idealistic ruler-ravings and magic nonsense. Stuff that was out of his league, and held very little interest for him in the first place. But, even then, after Thor took Loki back to Asgard and everyone started rebuilding their lives again, Tony got it. Power was something anyone could understand. The need for power and attention was, again, comprehendible. Especially the more he learned about Loki’s past—from what little droplets that managed to slip through in their conversations. Tony knew all too well that need for control, over everything. 

 

Then, there was Thanos. Lokihad explained it slowly to him. Apparently the guy has some dumb-ass high school crush on Death. (How there’s a physical whats-it for Death, Tony didn’t know. Or care.) But, apparently, Death doesn’t do flowers, and the guy decided that he would kill a bunch of fucking _everything_ to please her. Which, okay, Tony could almost get on board with that sort of logic. 

 

Person like other person. 

Person do anything to get Person to pay attention. 

Person continues to kill thousands upon thousands of people to get attention, even though it’s clearly not working for him.

 

_Nope._

_You lost me._

 

 

That was what made Tony Stark fucking livid. Because it was insane, complete nonsense. Obnoxiously fucking horrible, and what Tony hated the most, was the fact that this has been going on for _decades_. Years and years of this shit, and no one’s stop him yet. Not even Death, because come on lady, you could step in. He’s probably clogging up your inbox with this shit. But no, the Mad Titan prevailed, and continues to prevail, and fucking everything up for everyone.   


Well, Tony wasn’t taking that shit laying down. 

 

 

“Stark, get up here,” came Steve’s voice over the newly repaired intercom. Tony, of course, ignored it. Loki was already here, if anyone else crashed through the roof, Steve could deal with it himself. Especially the bloody body in his bed thing, that was not happening again.

 

Twenty minutes, three new boxes of scrap metal and burnt wiring later, Steve called again. 

 

“Stark, this is important. Come up to the common room.” 

 

Loki looked up from the bundle of metal floating in front of him and huffed loudly. 

 

“It seems your presence is required, yet not mine. I assume this is about me, then.”

 

“All the more reason they can fuck off,” Tony snapped. He was already in a bad mood from their conversation last night. It had started out nice, with the kissing and the groping, but then Tony just _had_ to ask one little thing about Thanos, and Loki _had_ to explain things from the beginning. With a lot of flinching, and haunted looks, and Tony woke up hours later to the god screaming in his sleep for the first time in weeks. To top that off, no one had bothered to clean up the half of his lab that exploded thanks to the portal. Blacked metal, melted plastic, wires everywhere, things Tony knew he should recognize, but apparently had become warped from the magic back-lash. Making messes was fun, cleaning up messes was not. Especially when it was somebody else’s mess.

 

“Stark!” Steve barked over the com once again. 

 

“JARVIS, please kindly relay this message for me: ‘No.’” 

 

“Nothing else?” the AI asked.

 

“That’s about as blunt as I can get.”

 

“I must admit, sir, I am surprised at the lack of inappropriate language.”

 

“Oh,” Tony mused, “there will be some if he calls down here again.” 

 

A hand touched his shoulder, turning him around slowly to face Loki. He forced a smile, but the god wasn’t mirroring it. He was sad, and Tony found it in him to silently rejoice at Loki’s ability to show some emotions around him. He wasn’t exactly the only one Loki showed them to, but getting pissed at Thor didn’t count. At least Tony got smiles, and giggles, and well, okay, tears and screaming too. But that was all part of that package deal. Tony wasn’t exactly a happy elf all the time, either.

 

“We should go,” the god suggested, his hands sliding down to rest on Tony’s hips. “Perhaps it is time we explain what we know about the oncoming storm.”

 

“Or we could leave it and it’ll be like a surprise party.”

 

“Do you honestly think we will not need their help? We are but two men, his is an army of thousands.”

 

Nope, Tony couldn’t hide his surprise anymore, apparently they have stepped into the Twilight Zone, where up was down, Clint was sane, and Loki was a big, fluffy kitten.

 

“You’re kidding me,” he muttered, glaring up at the green eyes that narrowed back at him. “Just yesterday—or the day before—some time recently—you said they were a bunch of useless, I don’t know, swine or something? You called them fat, to their faces, I remember that.”

 

Loki huffed out a laugh, “I was angry at the time, and in all honestly, they are rather lazy fighters. Do any of them even train between battles?” 

 

“Steve always trains. Steve has no life, he just trains. I was thinking of buying him ‘The Little Train that Could,’ before he pissed me off.” 

 

“Enough,” Loki commanded, his voice firm, but his expression gentle. “Let us go see what they want and deliver the news.”

 

“You make it sound like we’re having a baby, or something. Thanos is not news, Thanos is strapping yourself with one of those ‘THE END IS NIGH’ signs and running around screaming.”

 

“I’m sure you can find some wood and paint, then.”

 

So few things managed to cheer Tony up, like completely turn around his bad mood. 

 

Loki was now at the top of his list.

 

* * *

 

 

 

After Tony’s snappish attitude over the com, no one had expected the man to arrive in anything less than a hissy-fit. They had been warned by Bruce, several times, to stop trying to stage interventions, so this time, they tried to spread out around the room and make it less of a ‘trust circle’ kind of thing. Or, as Natasha put it, ‘cornering Stark like a wild animal has never, ever worked out well for anyone.’

 

“Hel-lo!” 

 

Steve jerked his head up from the tablet he’d been fidgeting with, and was outright shocked at the smile he was greeted with. Stark was beaming, even with all the grime and oil and what looked like flakes of insulation in his hair. He was chipper, and every bone in Steve’s body told him it was a trap.

 

“So what’s up, Scooby Gang?” Stark chimed. “Is Farmer Spooky Space Kook scaring kids off with his hideous face again? I mean, his mask.” 

Clint let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. 

 

Steve glanced around, waiting for someone to speak up. No one met his eye. 

 

_Figures, it’s always me who has to confront these two._

 

“Alright, I guess i’m acting head speaker,” Steve began, gesturing for Tony and Loki to sit down. “Look, this isn’t about what you did wrong. Er…”

 

Stark snapped, “But it is, isn’t it?” not dropping his grin for a second. 

 

“No, I mean it. We’re just sort of worried about you. Both of you,” he added when Loki sneered. 

 

“How charming,” the god replied. “Was it not weeks ago that you were quite happily assaulting me with very little concern for my well-being? I see you all suffer from memory loss, you have my pity.” 

 

“That was… complicated.” 

 

“That was _unforgivable_ ,” Tony hissed. 

 

Putting his hands up in surrender, Steve agreed, “It was, okay. It really was, and I'm sorry for my part in that mess. Things got out of hand fast and no one wants to admit it, but we panicked when you disappeared.” 

 

“Clint cried,” Natasha added. 

 

“Aww, Nat, no. Don’t ruin my manly-image.”

 

Tony snorted. “Trust me, Hawky, the purple jacket’s already doing a good number on that already.”

 

“Says the guy wearing a pink shirt.”

 

“It’s not pink, it’s salmon. According to Loki.” 

 

Loki nodded to confirm this, his expression daring anyone to argue. No one stepped up. 

 

Steve decided that this was one of there weirder conversations, and tried to get things back on topic. 

 

“Stark, about the scepter, you—“ he started to say, only to be interrupted by Tony.

 

“Yeah, actually, I know more about that than I mentioned. Sorry Bruce, don’t give me that look, it was a private conversation—almostdyingsortofthing—and I’m telling you guys now, so, there’s that.”

 

“Wait, what was that middle part about—“

 

“So, magic isn’t supposed to work, I guess, on me. Or with me…” Tony trailed off, making a face. “Actually, I don’t have any idea how that works. Lokes?”

 

With a heavy sigh, Loki took over, “The scepter is designed to magnify one’s power and manipulate it into a more tangible force to work with. Many mages across the Realms have tools such as this, and most are in-tune to only their master. My own staff, for example, would be useless in the hands of any other.”

 

Tony perked up, his eyes growing wide with excitement. “You have a staff?”

 

“Not now,” Loki hissed, nudging Stark over to sit next to him. “Where was I? Ah, yes, the scepter. It was not designed for me initially, and I imagine that if I touched it now—which I shall not, please save your breath—that the scepter would not respond to my magic. Its master permitted me to use it before, and there is no doubt in my mind that this permission has since then been revoked. This being said, it should not have activated in Stark’s hands at _all_.”

 

Something in Tony’s smile faltered just a little, and Steve frowned. Had he known that when he began testing? Both he and Bruce had been secretive about the whole thing, keeping everyone out when they ran the tests and giving only scraps of information afterwards. Their big announcement had simply been, ‘We can track magic!’ and nothing else. He wasn’t even sure how or when they had found Loki again. The god had just appeared in the tower, carrying a bleeding, unconscious Stark in his arms. (Thor had alerted them afterwards, they watched the camera footage to confirm.)

 

“What does this mean, then?” he asked, watching Stark’s face when Loki answered. 

 

“It means the scepter’s master allowed it to happen.”

 

Bruce choked, “Oh… Oh god. Tony…”

 

“Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best way to break it to them,” Stark commented, his expression unchanging. 

 

“What would you have me do?” Loki snapped. “Dance and sing for them?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Seeing Loki’s mouth thin dangerously, Steve stepped in. “Okay, we got it, but what does that mean, again? Why would it’s owner want Tony to use it in the first place?”

 

“Also, does that mean Tony’s magical?” Clint called out. “Dude, do a magical girl transformation.”

 

“What do you think that whole suit-adorning sequence is?”

 

“Can we stay serous for two seconds!?” Stave shouted. 

 

“Agreed,” Loki mumbled, sending Tony a look. The man didn’t cower, per-say, but he did silently sink into the couch. He also wasn’t smiling anymore. 

 

“There is a reason for this, we believe,” Loki continued. “The being known as Thanos—“ Thor’s gasp made everyone jump—“was the one who… assigned me to Midgard. As you may know, I was somewhat coerced into accepting this roll.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Steve snapped his head around. Clint, who had been calm thus far, was on the edge of his seat,jaw clenched with poorly controlled rage. 

 

“Clint…” Tony warned. 

 

“No, you can shut up. You’re the one sleeping with him, you don’t get to say _anything_ about this,” Clint growled, standing up and approaching Loki slowly. “I call bullshit. I saw you, and I saw what your precious Tesseract showed me. Coercion my ass, you were all for it. You were ready as fuck to take over the Earth and you didn’t give a shit how many people you killed to get what you wanted.” 

 

Loki’s mouth twitched as if he was about to laugh, but there was no humor in his voice at all. “You have a funny way of blocking out important aspects of this story, Archer. Do you remember that desperate need? The sweet voice calling you down into the depths, soothing all your worries, your fears? I don’t think you have forgotten the moment your humanity was stripped away, because I recall each moment of that, myself.” Loki let out a sickening laugh and stalk forward, studying Clint like a priceless artifact. “What do you think that need was for? _Who_ do you think crafted those thoughts?” 

 

“I know he was a _part_ of it,” Clint fumed, following Loki’s every move. “But I fought for every single moment of it, and you _didn’t_. So don’t give us this shit about ‘not wanting to do it’. You wanted it just as much as he did.”

 

“Oh, I never said I didn’t want it.”

 

“ _What_?” 

 

That was Thor, finally breaking his silent spell. Steve frowned over his shoulder at the blonde god, who had remained tucked away in the corner, keeping all attention off of him since Loki walked into the room. Now, he stepped forward, hurt evident on his face. “Brother, you told me of your trickery, your plan to fool Thanos. You said you had no interest in ruling this realm. Why lie about this, now?”

 

Loki granted him a short glance, and stalked his way back across the room to the couch. Stark looked up at him, a silent question in his eyes, before Loki plopped himself down next to the man with a rare lack of grace. Steve watched them lean towards one another, as if gaining support from the other’s body. It was almost touching, and Steve was having trouble hating Loki each time he saw the two of them interest like that. What could he say? He was a romantic at heart. 

 

“Thor, just because I was plotting the Titian’s failure, does not mean I did not want a throne _somewhere_.”

 

“Loki, there was no throne here to be had. Here, or at home.”

 

“I _was_ the rightful king of Asgard,” Loki spat venomously, and Thor simply shook his head. 

 

“Actually,” Tony chimed in, “He was, you know. For, like, ten minutes, sure, but according to what I heard, you—“ he pointed at Thor, “—Blondie, were banished, and Loki was the only one there when Odin-papa fell asleep. I call that rightful.”

 

Clint opened his mouth, presumably to tell Stark to shut up again, and closed it with a single leveled glare from Tony. 

 

“That was… different. I was banished because of him.”

 

Loki snarled, “You were banished because you let yourself be easily manipulated into doing all the moronic things you wished to do.”

 

“I was _manipulated_ ,” Thor ground out, “By you, my _brother_. Someone I trust. I fail to see how this is my fault.” 

 

“I was the one who said to let it go when we arrived! But no, you wanted a challenge, you wanted to _fight_.”

 

“After bringing us there in the first place?! Do not pretend that you did not wish for me to fight.”

 

“Yes, I did want you to fight. Because you, the ‘would-be king’, could not—would not see the folly of his rule before it began!” Loki ranted, moving to stand again. A hand curled firmly around his arm and, surprisingly, managed to hold him back.  

 

“I would have been a good king!” Thor roared in response, startling Bruce out of his chair.

 

“No, I don’t think you would have,” Tony said, his quiet voice ringing out in the sudden silence. 

 

Thor visibly deflated, casting his eyes downward. No one seemed to know what to say. It was a mess, as usual, and it wasn’t their mess. The two of them had things that needed to be sorted out, on their own. 

 

“Perhaps that is so,” Thor admitted softly. 

 

Loki took a shuddering breath, leaning ever further against Stark. The argument seemed to have taken a lot of everyone present, and still, no one had their answers. 

 

“Thanos is coming.”

 

“What? Wait, the guy who sent Loki and his army?” Steve asked, heart dropping to his feet. “Tony, don’t change the subject with a—”

 

“Just listen, this is important,” Stark snapped. “That massive army of aliens that kidnapped Loki and I are coming and they’re under his rule, we think. He’s got some kind of game plan, and it sounds like I’m an unwilling member of it.”

 

“But what does he want from you?”

 

“No idea.”

 

“When are they coming?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Will they be coming through the portals?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Steve swallowed the lump forming in his throat and asked quietly, “How are we going to fight this for a second time?” 

 

Tony looked away.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki’s mood had suffered greatly since this morning. He had actually been enjoying the busy work of cleaning up Stark’s work space, if not for the distraction, then for the company of the man he was growing increasingly fond of. 

 

After a grueling night of nightmares, bad memories, and a conversation Loki never wished to suffer through again, Loki was surprised when Anthony dragged him from their bed around noon, forced breakfast on him, and set him to work in the lab. There had been a tension in the air, which typically ended with them separating after their morning meal and spending the day in their own spaces. But today, somehow, it worked. Sometimes the man had a way of knowing what he needed, even when Loki did not.

 

But by the end of their impromptu meeting upstairs, all of the walls he erected around those open wounds, all the warmth he had absorbed from Stark’s presence was ruined by Thor’s outburst. That, and the reminder of the impending war and Thanos’ shadow looming over them. looming, more specially, over Stark.

 

“I didn’t know about the scepter,” Anthony said out of the blue. They had migrated to the roof after the meeting, stopping only to grab some drinks and a blanket, and were now spread out on their backs. Dark clouds threatened to drown them in rain, but neither of them cared.

 

“I know, you told me,” he replied.

 

“No, I mean I didn’t know that that was the reason it worked. Because he wanted me to use it, or whatever.”

 

A twinge of guilt ran through him. He had made an attempt to keep Anthony away from such knowledge as much as possible. There was no need to scare the man, not when Loki needed the inventor to be focused on their plans. But it had slipped out as the group demanded more information, thanks to that ridiculous team. He had been right to call them fat.

 

“It may not be the case,” Loki said, ignoring the irritated grunt from his left. “I never sensed any magic in you, Anthony, and as I said, the scepter is a tool made to respond to pre-existing power. As far as I know, it should not have activated in your hands.”

 

“Yeah, well it did. Really did. Because I was shooting blue fire-balls at the wall for days.”

 

Loki winced. He had yet to check Stark over himself, which was completely unacceptable. Being distracted by… _feelings_ was not a legitimate excuse for failing to investigate it fully. There was no point in trusting Banner’s tests, they were no where near advanced enough to detect the damage done by the scepter. He would do it later. Perhaps when Stark was sleeping, so not to worry the man. 

 

“I have some theories about that, but nothing conclusive, thus far.”

 

“Come on then, let’s toss some theories around for old time’s sake.”

 

“I thought we were supposed to be relaxing.”

 

“This is relaxing,” Stark replied, one leg bouncing in time to the music in his head. “We aren’t talking about what just happened, we’re talking about magic and science, that’s relaxing, right?”

 

Loki grunted, “Perhaps,” and relented. If this was what calmed the man, so be it. It wasn’t nearly as intrusive as their discussion of Thanos from last night. “What do you wish to know?”

 

“Just fuck me up.”

 

“I do not—“

 

“Throw me an idea,” Anthony corrected. “I don’t test positive for magic—according to you—but I used a glow stick that amplifies _existing_ magic from the user. Is it possible I do have a tiny, tiny bit in me? Could it be Thanos using it through me—which, ugh, please tell me it isn’t so.” 

 

Loki bit his lip and considered. He had thought of both of those options, the latter being the more likely, but less favorable. If Thanos had a link to Stark, all would be lost before they even began. The question was: How and when the titan had crafted this link with him, if it existed? The first theory was not unsound, but Loki was sure he would have sensed magic on the mortal. It had a unique signature, one he could not miss. 

 

“It is possible you have some small amount of magic in you, as most living things do, but it isn’t possible to generate enough power to craft—blue fire, you said?”

 

“Okay, so maybe more like energy balls? Like, glowing, magic—sort of like the blasts from my Repulsers, but they shot out like balls. Did some serious damage to the wall, I’d like to see what it does to a body, honestly.”

 

Loki smirked at that, tilting his head to study Stark’s expression. The man had some dark thoughts, at times, and never seemed to notice. In fact, he was smiling and humming something under his breath, as though he hadn’t just spoken of testing out a lethal weapon on his fellow mortals. Loki had been right to be fascinated by him. 

 

_Wait…_

 

“Like your weapons? It fired like your armor’s weapons?” he asked, rising up on one elbow. The man turned and mirrored his pose, resting his head on his hand. 

 

“Yep, pretty close. Why?”

 

If that was true, that meant… 

 

What was that feeling he had gotten that day he used his magic to heal Stark’s back? Loki had felt it leave his hands and delve into the man’s body and Stark, he…

 

Leaned forward, clutching his _chest_. 

 

_The Arc Reactor._

 

Loki jumped up from their blanket with a shout, “AH!”

 

“Whoa, jesus, what?!” Tony squawked, sitting up and blinking at him. 

 

“Come with me, I think I may know how to fight this monster.”

 

“What? How? From talking about…” he gestured usually, not budging from where he sat. “I thought we were doing the relaxing thing.”

 

“Winning this war, Anthony, is the priority,” Loki pointed out sternly, reaching down and yanking Stark up. “Besides, it is about to rain.”

 

Anthony sighed and looked up at the roiling clouds above them. 

 

“Yeah, I guess the storm has arrived.”

 


	19. Here Comes the Rain Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the war looms nearer, there's too much to do and so little time to do it. 
> 
> At least some people don't have set backs in their perfect plans.

 

 

The streets were slick with rain. Every pothole brimmed with filthy water, pigeons huddled together in hopes of staying dry, and Starbucks windows were steamed to perfection by damp patrons getting their caffein intake. The usual crowded sidewalks were now a mere trickle of the brave, the hard working, or the foolish. 

 

One individual stood out—or _would_ have stood out if anyone could actually see her. She was walking quite calmly through the downpour, green dress and cloak remaining dry, her hair far too perfect for humid, New York weather. And if any one of the hurrying pedestrians around her took a moment to focus on the figure brushing past them, they would have noticed her satisfied smirk, and her bright, dangerously happy eyes. Because when Amora was pleased, others often found themselves the punchline to a rather painful joke. 

 

**‘What news?’**

 

“Ah, so eager my lord,” Amor mused, sidestepping yet another young man ducked under yet another black umbrella. She had been counting. Only 78, thus far. 

 

**‘I have waited long enough for this,’** echoed the voicein the back of her mind. **‘Do not play wise when you are not clever enough to even pretend as such. It only serves as a reminder of how dull a weapon you truly are.’**

 

The usual fumes of aggravation began to rise up inside her, but Amora had plenty of practice dampening it down over the past few years of her so-called tutelage. Thanos would still sense, it, but be less inclined to comment if she showed some semblance of control. Lucky, lucky her.

 

“I only meant it as a compliment, Thanos, and a warning.” Amora turned down a side street, marching past the soggy cardboard boxes of the worst off and most miserable mortals. The stench of those green containers they camped beside would not be damped by the rain, and it sent an irrational spike of anger through her. That very smell was one of the reasons Loki was able to slip away and crawl back to his little pet. 

 

‘ **News.’**

 

_Ever the patient one, our dear Titan._  

 

Amora sighed, and slowed to a stop. Dividing her concentration between tasks was never one of her strong points, and perhaps why Loki always seemed to get the better of her when they were younger. Loki had great skills in separating his emotions from his duties, and even better, separating his magic between several areas of focus.

 

“I will part with such news when I complete this final task. You know as well as I do that much—if not _all_ —depends on his choice.” 

 

**‘He will choose as I intend.’**

“Loki has changed,” She reminded him. “Many more years have passed for him than you or I, and, apparently, that pathetic need of his to be loved has been fulfilled. You cannot base any assumptions on the man you once found, driven mad from the Void. He no longer exists.” 

 

A cold snicker filled her mind, before Thanos replied, **‘I intend to use that need to sway his choice, you fool. You have your orders. Complete this, and return.’**

 

 

Amora hummed, not bothering with a reply. He would see that as a sign of disrespect, of course, but her mind was already buzzing with strategies and contingency plans. She had a lot to do over the course of the day, but her first step was to get into the building she was standing next to. 

 

She smirked up at the Stark Tower, and phased through the wall with ease. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The plan was a simple one. But like most things that appear easy, there’s always the matter of ideal settings needed to make it actually work. Every tumbler had to fall at the precise time, every domino hitting the next at the same velocity. And, sadly, perfection didn’t exist, but a massive army of pissed off aliens _did_. 

 

Loki’s idea was this: Connect the scepter to the larger reactor in the basement, aim into space, and shoot at the massive army of pissed off aliens. Simple, elegant, explosions. It would be perfect, if they got the timing right and if the damn scepter didn’t seem to have it out for him. That, and the god decided it was better to keep the entire plan a secret from the team. Because, so far, secrets have worked out _so_ well for them. 

 

“I don’t see why I can’t tell Bruce, at the very least,” Tony complained, again. “He’s the only one I’ve allowed near this thing—well, now there’s you, but that’s an entirely different topic that I don’t feel like going off on. Unless you feel like discussing our feelings and trust issues again, that could be fun.”

 

“After our announcement the other day, do you truly think Banner would assist us in potentially harming yourself or anyone else?” Loki asked, not even doing him the courtesy of looking up from what he was doing. So rude, his _boyfriend_. 

 

“He would assist us in _not_ accidentally hurting myself or anyone else. If, you know, you let him in on the big plan.” Tony knelt down next to him and got back to work himself. He didn’t quite trust Loki with the reactor. The one in his chest, sure, maybe, but the big one powering the entire building? Not so much. That was still outside of his comfort zone. “You do have an actual plan, right? Not just the whole making my beautiful power source into a giant bug-zapper for aliens.” 

 

Loki scoffed, “Need I remind you that this is partially your plan, as well? You were the one who told me to work with this, rather than the one in your chest.”

 

“Uh, yeah, because the one in my chest is _the one in my chest_.”

 

“I did say I would be careful.”

 

“And I said, ‘no’,” Tony reminded, elbowing Loki out of the way before he severed a very important bit of wiring. Really, Loki bragged about all their technological advances up there in Asgard, but he couldn’t tell a ground wire from a starter wire. “Besides, if this Thanos guy is as big and ugly as you say he is, I think we need to break out the big guns.” 

 

Loki grunted at him, letting Tony take over the reactor part while he leaned over the scepter once again. He had yet to touch it, stating very clearly that he would not— _could_ not touch the thing again. No after what it did to him, and especially not when it was now ‘attuned’ to Tony. Which was great, just brilliant, because now Tony was the only one who could carry it from the lab to the basement and everyone wanted to know: _What’s going on? Where are you going? What are you doing? Why do you look so sick?_

 

“So how exactly are we connecting this?” Tony inquired, “and when we do, is it going to explode directionally or just… _kerwomph_!?”

 

“We shan't be connecting anything until the time is right, so I would rather like to get this done before then.”

 

Tony looked up from the ever-growing mess in front of him and turned to squint at the scepter. It was giving him a headache just by being in the same room as him. Which was something he should probably mention to Loki, but he didn’t really feel like dealing with the fuss that came with that. The last time he passed out and bled everywhere was the first and last time Tony ever wanted to see that amount of fear in Loki’s eyes.

 

Tony scowled at the thing and tried to move so that the god was between him and the scepter. The headache didn’t lessen, but his patience did. 

 

“Get what done?” he muttered to himself, “All you’ve been doing is glaring at everything for days now.”

 

“Spell work, Stark,” Loki snapped. “Something you know nothing about.”

 

“I know enough to know that there’s usually more hand waving and flashing colors.”

 

“Not always… this is deeper magic.”

 

“Want some help?”

 

“No.”

 

“Want some coffee?”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“Want a hug?”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“Want a blow job?”

 

Loki jerked his head around, eyes comically wide for about a second before the irritation returned in tenfold. “Stark, either be silent or go bother someone else.”

 

“I love how ‘Stark’ just rolls off your tongue when you get pissy,” Tony commented with a shit-eating grin that he knew would tick Loki off even more. It was his right and privilege to annoy him, now that he was his _boyfriend._  
  
_Another word that rolls off the tongue much easier now._

 

“ _You_ ,” Loki snarled, and pointed at him, “go away. _Now_.”

 

Laughing, Tony stood, dusted himself off, and tipped an invisible hat to the grumpy god. He would make it up to him later—probably around 4AM, or whenever they managed to drag themselves up to their bed. 

 

‘ _Their_ bed’. Jesus, it was really happening. First it was ‘their’ room, now it’s ‘their’ bed. 

 

_You kind of told him you love him, there’s no going back now_ , he reminded himself. 

 

Right. Love. 

 

“So i’m going to go bother someone else, someone who cares more about me than magic and science. No, no. Don’t get up, I see how it is.” Tony waved at Loki, who was clearly _not_ getting up, and backed away towards the door. “It was good while it lasted, but I guess all good things must come to an end. It’s really too and we didn’t get at least one f—“

 

“You will get nothing from me if you do not leave me be,” Loki warned. But Tony wasn’t fooled, there was a little tilt to his lips, one of those secret smiles hidden under all that scowl. Loki got the message. They’d spend time together later, but for now, it was time for some space.

 

Tony slid out the door with a loud, “Caaaalllllll mmeeeeeeeeee!” before wandering off to see if anyone else was awake at midnight. 

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly, Steve was the only one around. Tony found him sitting in the common room, decked out in gray sweats and a pair of—

 

“Oh my _god_ , are those avocado socks?! Where the hell did you get those? Tell me. Tell me right now.”

 

The soldier looked down at his socks, looking as surprised as Tony felt about the little green and brown avocados decorating his feet. 

 

“I have no idea, Nat got them for me last month and all my white ones are in the wash.”

 

Tony shook his head in distain and plopped himself down across from him. “Leave them there to die and get Natasha to buy you more of those. While you’re at it, get her to buy me some too. Not the same ones, obviously—I don’t want to match you—but something _like_ those. Maybe robots. Little robots? That would be cute. I want robot socks. JARVIS, tell Natasha I want robot socks, right now.”

 

The AI replied after a short pause, “I have alerted her, sir. She seemed unhappy about being woken up over a pair of socks.”

 

“She was sleeping already?” Tony snorted, unimpressed with their resident spy-der. “Whatever, She’ll live. She’s been woken up by worse.”

 

“Like Loki wandering around the tower with you bleeding in his arms?” Steve prompted. 

 

“Low blow, Rogers.”

 

Steve shrugged and leaned back into the couch. He probably thought he looked like the king of nonchalance, all stretched out in softy clothes and avocado socks, but Tony wasn’t fooled. Rogers didn’t stay up late unless he had a reason too, much less lurk around doing—what was that, A crossword puzzle?—right where Tony might happen to run into him. He was up to something, and doing a shit-poor job of hiding it to no one’s surprise.

 

“Alright, what is it now?” Tony sighed, feeling sapped of energy already. Play-fighting with Loki was fun, but things with Steve had come to a stand still after their triumphant return to the tower and Tony’s highly-critical speech. Maybe it was the war weighing on his mind—or rather, _everyone’s_ mind—or maybe he was actually getting used to Rogers’ attitude. God forbid. He better check the sky, pigs were probably defying gravity right this very moment. 

 

“I didn’t want to make a big deal about it when you first told us that this Thanos guy was planning on attacking earth,” Steve began, losing all pretense of calm and sitting up with his almost-perfect posture. “You’d just been hurt pretty badly, more than I think you and Loki let on, and I guess I kinda wasn’t sure if I believed it yet.”

 

“Seriously? Why would I lie about something like—“ Tony broke off when Steve’s hand came up to stop him. Rude.

 

“I _do_ believe you, because I know you wouldn’t make something up like that. I just thought… well I was worried that Loki might have done something to make you believe it. Like one of those mirages, or something.” 

 

Tony wrinkled his nose.

 

“Don’t make that face, I don’t know what to call what he does when he does that…” he wiggled a hand around, looking determined to find the right word. “Magic… mirage thing.” 

 

Tony snorted. “Mirage _thing_ , so much better.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve groused, and dropped his hands back into his lap. Tony fell silent while he waited for the ‘but’ that he knew was coming.

 

 “ _But_ —“ Ah, _there_ it was. “I saw his face, Tony. He was scared. You can’t fake scared like that. At least, I don’t think Loki can, anyway.”

 

Tony glanced away from him, not wanting to look into those sincere eyes of his. He knew where this was going, but he had promises to keep and miles before he could sleep. And he should have known better than to promise anything, he never used to. It was always, ‘I will do my best to do such-and-such’, or, ‘I will get it to you before you die, probably.’ Why did he even use the word, ‘promise’? He must be losing his mind. 

 

_Love makes you stupid._

 

_Yes, thank you for that, brain._

 

“Tony, i’m trying to ask you what the plan is.”

 

“Who says there’s a plan?” Tony muttered, still staring firmly at the lamp like it was the most fascinating thing ever. (It wasn’t. Tony hated that lamp. Why was it even _here_? Who paid for it?)

 

“There’s obviously a plan. You and Loki have been up to something for a couple of days now, and Clint’s been asking Bruce about it. Which, I noticed, he has no answer to, either.”

 

“Quick, call the Pope, Clint’s curious about something again.”

 

“ _Tony_ …”

 

Tony could almost hear the muscle in Steve’s jaw twitch, which made him turn to face him regardless of how fascinating the lamp was. If he was going to do this, he would at least meet the man’s eye. 

 

“There. Is. No. Plan,” he emphasized. 

 

Steve’s mouth became a tight line of anger, and there he went, right out of the friend-zone and into No Man’s land in the blink of and eye.

 

“Why aren’t you telling us anything, _again_? Did you just forget how well that worked out for you the last time you decided to keep everything a secret?”

 

“Yeah, I remember everyone acting like a major asshole when they nosed their way into my personal life. Did you forget about _that_ part? Should I get the security footage up for a refresher?” 

 

“This is completely different!” Steve hissed, looking ready to leap out of his seat, which would seriously, probably not end well. Tony was still… _small_ , compared to the super soldier. Even if he had no doubt in his mind that Loki would do something horrible to Steve if Tony got hurt. As charming a thought as the idea was, Tony really didn’t want to get hurt in the first place. 

 

“Look, I get it, you want to be a part of the process.” Tony gave a shrug and stood up, hoping that remaining nonchalant might help keep things a little more civil between them. “But let’s face it, Loki and I are the only ones who know what’s going on and how to deal with it.”

 

“You think you’re the _only_ one qualified to handle this war?” 

 

He probably should have noticed the drop in Steve’s tone, or the way the man stood up in a single movement, and stepped closer to him one threatening step at a time. But he didn’t, he was too busy not making eye-contact again.

 

So, Tony went and opened his fat mouth, “I know _I’m_ qualified for it—over qualified, let’s be honest. I’ve been there, done that. I know how war works, and I’m the one with all the toys to fight it.”

 

He _really_ should have noticed the almost audible snapping sound coming from somewhere around Steve’s brain.

 

“ _You_ think you know what war is?!” Steve roared, coming out of no where and shoving him against the wall with his full strength. “You don’t have _any_ idea what war is, Stark, and you’re _lucky._ ”

 

His bones may be creaking in protest, but hot fury clawed at his insides, and there was _no_ way he was taking that sitting down. Super solider or not. 

 

He snarled, “ _Excuse me?!_ You have _—“_

 

And then Steve leaned in like he was going to eat him, and downright _growled_ at him, “ _War_ is waking up to the sound of gun fire every morning. War is looking your soldiers in the eye and wondering which one’s not gonna be looking back at you by the end of the day. War it marching ten miles in one night with water in your boots, and you can’t stop to dry them out because the other troop’s last transmission ended with a _scream_.” 

 

“ _That’s_ war, Stark. It’s dirty, it’s bloody, and It’s relentless. It’s not dropping off your weapons and leaving the dirty work to the soldiers or flying in to take out one part of a terrorist ring. It’s being there—it’s _living_ there every damn day, and some of those days you feel like you’ve won already, and other’s make you wish one of those bullets had your name on it, instead of one of your men.”

 

 Steve pushed away from him, expression tense and dark. It was the same kind of look he got when someone mentioned Bucky Barnes, or brought up their own best friends, or ate oatmeal around him. The same haunted look Tony knew he got about caves, and portals, and couscous. At least Bruce had to stop making it for dinner when Tony stopped coming to dinner on Bruce’s cooking day. He couldn’t escape the other memories, just like Steve couldn’t escape his own.

  
  
And, yeah, maybe he hasn’t actually been in a war. He’s funded them, fed them, stopped by and kind of ended one. But he’d never actually touched the earth, so to speak. He swooped in, did his thing, and left the clean up to the soldiers. Left all that dirty work the the guys who’d been there for months and months and probably needed a break, or wanted to go see their kids or something.

 

“So… so. Don’t talk to me about war…”

 

Tony twitched at Steve’s exhausted tone, and forced himself to focus again.

 

Steve continued, quieter now, “Now tell me your plan, because other than Thor, i’m the only one on this team who’s actually _fought_ a war before.”

 

Tony stared up at him and found himself wondering how a man in cutesy socks managed to threaten him and look so _sad_ at the same time. Only Rogers, he decided. Only this guy could pull it off. 

 

So he agreed, “Okay… I’ll explain it.”

 

The solider blinked in surprise. “Really?” 

 

“Really,” Tony confirmed, running his hands down his face. Things had gone as well as he expected them to, and he _did_ get pushed around a little. He could say he did his best in the face of American Justice, Loki would totally understand.

 

Nah. He knew better than that.

 

 

“Just so you know, Loki’s going to _kill_ me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

For a single moment, Loki had an intense urge to murder the man he had recently proclaimed his love for. The moment passed, however, and the next hour was spent waking everyone up from their slumber, drinking coffee, and explaining every minute detail of his carefully laid out plans. 

 

Morning came and went, leaving empty packets of surgery food, charts, lists, and empty coffee cups strewn across every surface of the living room. A hurricane of busy, worried people had passed through, all half dressed and filled with half-baked ideas on how to fight a creature no one has thus far been able to defeat. Tempers blazed and simmered down again as the night dragged on, and by the time Loki and blather mouth of a lover managed to escape, no one wanted to look at each other anymore. 

 

_No one_ had agreed with Loki’s plan. It was really no surprise to him after all their other obtuse behavior since his return to the realm, but he made it perfectly clear that he did not care if they agreed or not. If Stark hadn’t blurted it out to that nosey blonde mortal, there would be nothing standing in their way, and things would—presumably—go much smoother. But now that he had, and that the foolish solider just _had_ to go wake everyone up to ‘revise’ his plan, it was nothing but foolish attempts to make the entire process ‘safer’. 

 

Loki did not participate in ‘safe’ battle strategies. Safety was never his main concern; it simply impeded the creative process, and made useless any straight forward attempt to gain what they desired. He reminded them time and time again that trickery and subtly were different creatures entirely, _so please stop using them as an example of safe planning_. Attacking the problem from another angle was a perfectly legitimate way to handle things, and spending the time to set up such a strategy was one of life’s simple pleasures. It was _not_ , he reminded them again, the same as making a plan ‘safe’.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Stark insisted from across the room, his voice muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head. “It’s not like they can stop us, and I _told_ them that there was going to be some hazardous elements to it. But no, they still have to barge in and take over our operation.”

 

“Perhaps if you had kept it a secret, like I _asked_ ,” Loki grumbled to return, removing his clothing while simultaneously looking through the drawers for the sleep wear Stark had recently bought him. He hadn’t said anything about it yet, but it was ever so soft against his skin. If Stark hadn’t just gone and ruined things, Loki may have thanked him for them by now. 

 

“‘Asked’… hmm, no, it was more of an order, and you know I don’t listen to orders. They just go right over my head.” There was a thump of an exhausted body hitting the mattress before he continued, “And besides, I was under duress. Lots of duress.”

 

Loki hummed when he found the black, silk bottoms and slipped them on. “I hardly see that happening. Your super soldier may be willing to attack me, but you? He seems content in throwing barbs more than that shield of his.” 

 

“Duress, I tell you.”

 

“You’re exaggerating,” Loki sighed, coming over to the bed with the intention of throwing himself down next to the man as ungracefully as he just did. Something made him pause, though. A shadow on Stark’s skin that wasn’t there this morning. “What is _this_?”

 

Anthony turned his head, one eye tailing up and down Loki’s body before he grunted in confusion. “What?”

 

Loki crawled over him, straddling his legs and leaning down for a better look. “This is a bruise…” he wondered quietly.“ _Did_ he harm you?”

 

“I told you, duress.”

 

“He _hurt_ you.” 

 

It wasn’t exactly a question, but more a promise of retribution. No one hurt the one he loved, especially not some shield brother that, for all extensive purposes, was supposed to _protect_ Anthony. It was unheard of, even on Asgard. Well, not in respects to his own person, of course. None of Thor’s friends had any qualms with causing bruises such as this on _his_ body. All in the name of improving their skills, all in the name of _fun_. 

 

“It’s not that bad,” Stark was saying. “I can’t even feel it any—ow! I can feel _that_ ,” he snapped, turning his head again to give Loki a one-eyed glare. “Stop pushing at it, jesus. You’re like a five—stop it!” 

 

“It is ugly and deep, Anthony. Let me heal it.”

 

“Heal…? Wait—no, no, no! Not again, last time you—“

 

Loki ignored him, and sent the first bust of magic into the mortal’s skin. Just as it did the last time he healed Stark’s back, something began to pull at his magic. This meant, of course, that he attempted to avoid the pull, weaving the spell quickly and spreading it through the veins and muscles before it became too hard to focus. 

 

“Norns, what is this?” he hissed, feeling the cold, raw pawer of the thing start to creep up his fingers and into his blood. 

 

“I d-don’t know but… stop… _please_ stop,” Anthony begged, his entire body trembling.

 

Oh, he _wanted_ to make it stop, especially with the way Anthony’s voice was pitched in pain, but the power dragged him in deeper and deeper. There was something familiar about those soft whispered words, sweet promises of something better, stronger, beautiful. The same images of a warm place to hide in, a throne with no puppet master’s strings attached, strong arms to hold him close at night, and a bright, blue light that… that…

 

_That_ was different. He had never imagined such a thing before, the last time he had been touched with the power of the Tesseract. 

 

“Oh no… no, get it _away_!” he shrieked, jerking his body away from Stark’s with all his strength. The connection lingered a moment, and broke with a loud snap that sent him backwards off the bed.

 

“You… okay? Oh man… Ow…”

 

A few moments of panting later, another whimper followed the other, “Ow…”

 

Time dragged on as Loki took shallow, gasping breaths and tried to gather his thoughts. Fifty or more years of unspeakable pain, of long, dark months where Loki saw nothing but the light through the door’s slat when they checked on him. No food, just a rattle, a burst of light, and they were gone again, ignoring him for another month before they decided that it was much more fun making him scream. Fifty years, and he never once forgot the how cold the grip of the Tesseract was. 

 

“Can we… can we avoid doing that?” Tony murmured from the bed. “In the future.”

 

“Why is that _thing_ in your chest?”

 

“My… reactor?”

 

“The Tesseract.”

“It’s not.”

 

“It is,” Loki argued, pushing himself off the floor and crawling back on to the bed. Stark hadn’t moved, but, in fact, looked more drained than before. “I recognized that feeling, Anthony, you cannot fool me.”

 

“Yeah, I can’t, because i’m not,” came his terse reply. The mortal shifted a hand over the glowing circlet of blue in his chest, snuffing the light out and sending them into full darkness. Loki shifted closer, and pushed his hand away just enough to let out a faint glow. Anthony gave him an apologetic smile, and let his hand drop away.

 

“Anthony…”

 

“It’s not the Tesseract, I promise.”

 

“I know that feeling,” He insisted, tracing his fingers around the circlet. “No wonder the scepter responded to you so easily, your body must have called out to it.” 

 

“Please don’t say that,” Stark groaned and rolled on his back, which made him groan again and roll back over. “Didn’t heal the bruise, you jerk.” 

  
Loki managed a weak chuckle, and stretched out beside him, his hand still pressed against the cold glass in Stark’s chest. With a mutter from the mortal, JARVIS let the dark-tinted glass allow more of the afternoon sunlight into the room. It cast a warm glow, and revealed the sickly pallor Anthony’s skin had taken since he began his work with the scepter. No matter what that doctor friend of his said, Loki knew he was not in good health, all you had to do was look at him. Their healing science was utter swill. 

 

“It’s like the tesseract,” Anthony stated, suddenly. “It’s a new element, technically, but it’s based off of Howard’s research into the Tesseract. He found the damn thing on the ocean floor while he was looking around for Ol’ Cap down there, ended up spending the rest of his life regretting that he found the blue box and not his favorite pet project.” 

 

Loki furrowed his brow, knowing he was missing some history here that Stark hadn’t felt inclined to explain. Not that it mattered, really. He never offered any of his personal history, either. 

 

“What you mean to tell me is that all your reactors are from the same power source?”

 

“Actually, no. The one powering this building is based off of the same design as my old on that Pepper kind of… blew up.” He snickered and shook his head. “Good times.” 

 

“‘ _You are one fucked up individual’_ ,” Loki mocked in his best impersonation of the Furious Director. He made Stark laugh, and that’s all that mattered. It didn’t last long before the man grew somber and quiet once more. “What is it that bothers you the most?” 

 

“I just… all that talking and nothing got cemented, really. When are we even doing this? When is Than-oats going to get here? How long do we even have to get the stupid scepter connected, and how are we even supposed to know when the dude is coming in the first place?”

 

“I believe we still have some time, yet,” Loki assured him, wrapping an arm around his waist to tug him closer. He snuggled into Loki’s body with a pleased hum, and closed his eyes. “I cannot promise anything, but if his last attempt at intimidation meant anything, he is not quite as prepared as he would like us to think. I would say a month, at the least.”

 

“A month?” Stark murmured, his breathing growing slow. “I can do a month.”

 

Loki smiled faintly, trying to ignore that small, fond feeling in his chest while watching Anthony fall asleep. It was rather charming, but fondness and love were such… crippling emotions. Weaknesses could be exploited, and perhaps this time, Loki would arrange his battle plan around safety above all else. 

 

“We will be prepared,” he whispered to himself. “ _I_ will be prepared.” 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Darkness fell on the tower once again, every creature finally back in their beds, and every god, too. It was time, at last, to complete what she set out to do. It was so simple, really. A perfect plan. 

 

Each step made only the smallest of sounds as she crept into the dusky room on one of the upper floors. She did not need light to see her target, and crept easily past dressers and all the strewn objects around the bed. Nestled under heavy blankets, a figure was snoring so adorably, it was such a shame to have to do this to him. 

 

Oh well, it was needed. 

  
Amora pulled out a small, glass vial, popped it open, and carefully poured its contents into the ear of the sleeping man. His snores faltered only once, and began again with renewed vigor. As if nothing had happened. 

 

Perfect. 

 

She crept away again, up two floors, and through winding hallways. She had just one more stop to make before she left Midgard. 

 

Amora smirked. This was her favorite part.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki awoke with a start, his hand flinging out to the empty space beside him. He had a moment of panic before he spotted the note sitting on Anthony’s pillow, and let out a huff of laughter. It was one of Stark’s habits to leave him a note whenever he actually managed to wake up before him, and it usually revolved around food or flirtation. Sometimes both. 

Smiling sleepily, Loki picked up the note and read it. 

 

_‘Did you really think you were free?’_

 

“What is…?” Loki trailed off, reading it over a second time. It was not Stark’s handwriting, but something loopy and feminine. He had seen it somewhere before, years ago.   
  
Something was wrong. 

 

“Anthony?” he called out, shoving himself up and quickly searching for any sound, or smell of the man. He didn’t seem to be anywhere near their rooms, which meant he was—

 

A second piece of paper fluttered out from behind the note and landed in his lap. That panic, that had welled up almost on instinct, was back and clawing at his insides. He knew that writing, he knew it. If he could just remember…

 

With shaking hands, he lifted the second paper to his eyes. 

 

It was a newspaper clipping, slightly stained—as if dropped in a grimy old dumpster—and faded.  

 

' _Seeking the return of beautiful red bird. One of a kind, highly valued, likes men with dark hair. Will compensate generously if found. If ~~not, I can only hope~~_ ~~ _he has found a good home_ ~~ _._ ’

 

And under the crossed out words, in the same loopy handwriting as the note, it read: ‘ _he is still alive by the time you find him.’_

 

Of course, he knew that garish penmanship. Who else could have saved the newspaper clipping, than the same woman who drove him from his hide-away. The same one who, undoubtably, returned to his apartment, and stole all his saved newspaper clippings. 

 

The same witch who had _warned_ him that Thanos wanted Stark, and he had foolishly ignored. 

 

“Amora,” he hissed, crumpling up the paper in his fist. “Oh, you _bitch_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are coming up on the end here, soon. ; u ;


End file.
